Dunn and Dusted
by ThiessenClocks
Summary: Just a few days into his first own mission, Benji is having seconds thoughts about whether it was smart to pick up that phone Ethan gave him in Seattle... Set after Ghost Protocol, rated T for violence and some language.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

" _Fleming, come in_ , _"_ her voice sounded in his comm link.

"Copy," Connor said flatly. He couldn't risk that anyone would hear him, now that he was so close.

" _We're out. All clear so far. Now we just have to be quick. We're coming to pick you up."_

"Negative, Christie." Carefully, he attached the last charge to the tank in front of him and rolled out the fuse.

" _What do you mean, negative, where are you?"_

It was kind of nice, having her voice in his ear. That way she was with him and still safe. Connor could hear voices outside. He didn't have much time left, someone was bound to notice what he was doing.

" _Fleming?"_ she persisted.

"Where are you?" he asked.

" _We're at the rendezvous. All according to plan. Now where are you?"_

"That's good." Connor took a deep breath, eyeing his trusted Zippo in his hands. His fingers were trembling a little. He wasn't as brave as he had been at the start. Still he managed to keep his voice calm. "I need you to get them away from here and run."

" _Can you please stop pretending that I'm gonna leave you behind? We're on a schedule, remember?"_

"How far away are you?" Footsteps outside, and more voices. Nothing he could understand, but for now he decided that everything would work out. Because it had to. It was the only way he could see to buy her some time.

" _Are you still inside?!"_ She sounded angry. _"We don't have time for this!"_

"You have to get going. I'm not coming with you."

That was when she understood, he could feel it. It was right there in the silence. Then she started shouting at him, it almost hurt his ear. _"No! No, we agreed, we are going to do this together."_

"It's okay," Connor said, mentally congratulating himself that he had just said the lamest thing possible.

She continued to shout, _"Yes, it's_ going _to be okay once you get your ass back here."_

In the corridor someone started running, coming closer rapidly. Connor scrambled back into a corner, rolling out the last length of fuse and hoped there would be enough cover in case someone opened the door after all. He had to do this, now.

" _That's an order!"_ she shouted, and a bit of desperation was sneaking into her voice.

That was sweet, that she tried to pull rank on him now. He wasn't sure if she had ever done that before. "You can set it up as a rescue mission. Just tell them you went back for me," he hurried to say.

" _What are you talking about?"_

"I know they like to pretend they're all strict about this, but they won't charge you for this, trust me."

" _Whatever you think you're doing, stop it."_

Connor flipped the lighter open. "You just stay out there. Save the world."

" _Don't be ridiculous. Please. Just – come out,"_ she said pleadingly.

That was not what he wanted to hear. "You need to go. Promise me to get out of there. I'm serious. Don't come back."

" _Connor!"_ she finally ditched the codename.

A strange sense of calm washed over him when he saw the small flame in his hand. This was the right thing to do, the only way, and he knew it. A smile appeared on his face. "It's okay."

She said something else, but he wasn't paying attention to the words any more. He simply took comfort in the sound of her voice.

Then, Connor lit the fuse.


	2. Caught and Crossed (1)

**Dunn and Dusted**

 **Part One: Caught and Crossed**

Benji had never been so uncomfortable in his life. But, as it turned out, he didn't have much of a choice. This dubious back-up that, according to the IMF, should have arrived two days ago, had not done so, and time was precious. The longer he waited, the greater the chance that someone would destroy evidence.

Maybe there had been an accident. And he had to admit that the ways for communication to reach him were limited. Then again limited options were what this job was all about. The IMF would have found a replacement. At the very least they could have contacted him to brief him about the new situation – if there was any. Maybe his partner had simply been delayed. That happened. Right?

Benji sighed. He felt the need to talk, but there was no one there. He was on his own. Maybe he shouldn't have picked up that phone Ethan had handed him in Seattle last week after all.

That's what was on his mind as he broke into the server room of Kennedy Ltd. in order to gain access to their security systems. Part of him would have preferred to stay at the computer all along, monitoring. A small part of him, though. After all he was a field agent now.

All the more reason to keep him up to date, he caught hold of his train of thought again while opening the door with his smoothly acquired staff member card. He smiled a little - he wasn't the new guy any more.

Benji closed the door behind him and just stood in the dark server room for a moment, surrounded by tiny red, blue and green lights. This was going really well so far. He went to the very back of the room and knelt down. That way he would have enough cover to buy him some time in case he got company. The door was the only way in or out. The techie set to work.

He was nearly finished when suddenly the door opened. Light from the corridor flooded in, only to be immediately drained away again when the heavy door was closed.

Footsteps.

Frantically, he turned off his headlamp. To his dismay a part of him started panicking.

When the woman spotted him, she flinched; a second later the full brightness of a flashlight hit him in the face.

"What are you doing here?"

Benji got up to his full height. "I was just making a routine check of the servers." He shadowed his face with his hand, trying to see the master of the flashlight. As far as he could tell, she was wearing a security uniform just like his.

"In the dark? In the middle of the night?"

"Well, it's my shift, I-"

Clearly she didn't believe a word he was saying. Just his luck. "Show me your ID."

"All right, lady, no worries." He pretended to rummage for his card, when at the same time he wondered how he was going to get out of this. He was in the system all right, he had taken care of that, so her looking at his ID would do no harm. But if she saw just what he was doing here - and a side glance, if she had any knowledge of these things, would suffice – then he might end up in trouble. He needed to get his stuff and vanish, fast.

He was just about to hand her his fake ID when out of nowhere she kicked him in the side. Professional, no doubt. The ground came nearer, but she left him no time to fall, and suddenly Benji found himself pressed against the wall, face first, arms behind his back, with no way to escape. She had noticed, then. But what kind of security staff had that kind of training?

"Now I don't want to hear any of your fake ID routine, do you understand me?" it hissed quite close to his right ear. "Who are you, and why are you trying to hack into the server?"

"I don't know what you're talking-" She pressed him harder to the wall. Something in his arm made a weird sound. This wasn't normal, Benji decided – and that's when it occurred to him.

"Why didn't you turn on the lights?" he managed to say between clenched teeth.

"I beg your pardon?" came the reply.

"When you came in here you didn't turn on the lights either. Why not? If you had work to do, why wouldn't you turn on the lights? And how did you notice that I was hacking into the server at first glance? That was very perceptive of you, wasn't it? Every security guard I've met here so far wouldn't have seen the difference between repairs and trying to destroy it, let alone me trying to hack into it. And your training is nothing short of that of-"

"The IMF," they finished together. She abruptly let go of him, so that he had to catch himself from falling.

"I'm sorry," she said. "All I had to go on was the location of the safe house. I didn't know whom I was supposed to be partnered with. They never told me."

"Me neither, otherwise we could have avoided that," Benji said, rubbing his shoulder.

"On the other hand, you shouldn't be here," she pointed out. "I was supposed to get into the system, you're to stay with Nolan."

"But you didn't show up."

"I got held up," she stated, but failed to elaborate. "HQ was supposed to tell you."

"Well, they didn't."

She paused for a second, then asked, "Where's Nolan?"

"He's back at the safe house."

"Right." A short silence arose. "How long do you need here?"

"I'm finished," Benji said.

For an instant, she looked impressed. Then again it might have been a trick of the lights. "Let's go then," she said.

"My name's Dunn, by the way," he said, extending a hand, "Ben-"

"Later. In the car."


	3. Caught and Crossed (2)

She was driving. Benji seized the opportunity to look at her. She had blond hair, the majority of which was stuffed under a black cap. Their uniform jackets had been thrown onto the back seat, plain black trousers and a black shirt remained for her, while he was wearing something more colourful with a red-checked button-down loosely over it.

Her eyes looked dark but he couldn't tell their colour, and now that he thought about it, she was pretty small. Five foot three, maybe. Also she was quite lean. Still she had overtaken him in no time. Benji looked out of the window into the dark.

"So, Agent Dunn."

He turned his head. So far, neither of them had said a word, and for some reason, all against his nature, he didn't feel like talking anymore.

"I'm Agent Holt. How have things been going so far?" It was a question, but it didn't sound like one. Her accent was British, similar to his own. Clean and crisp, but with something else in it, something very faint.

"Not much to tell, really. We've been waiting for you to arrive all week until I decided to break into the server room myself."

He thought he could see the faintest hint of a smile on her face. Whatever was funny about that.

"I'm sorry that I've been delayed. It proved to be more difficult to get out of Newfoundland than I thought. To be honest, it seems that IMF just waited to see who was nearest to you at that moment to send back-up, but maybe they should have sent someone from D.C. instead."

Benji frowned. "What do you mean?"

"They didn't seem to have anyone specific in mind, otherwise they would have told you, right?"

"I guess."

"And I suppose they needed something for me to do anyway, so after all here I am. This way, right?" Holt motioned at the street ahead.

Benji nodded. "You need to take a right, over there, and then follow the road for a while."

"So, this guy, Nolan," she continued after making the turn. "He actually came forward with papers to destroy his own company?"

"Not exactly," Benji replied. "He dug out some report that his predecessor apparently held back which would have led to shutting down Kennedy Ltd. for good. It started with weird finances, disappearing money and the like, and went on to pretty high amounts. Only the guy was in with the local and international mafia, so shutting down the company was out of the question."

"I see. And Nolan didn't even know about this?"

"No, the entire mafia-thing was kept up by his right hand man, Richard Ferner. Nolan had no idea until he found the reports and started doing some research of his own one week ago."

"And the IMF is in this, how?"

"The head of _la familia_ , in this case, is Lionel Reinhardt-"

"Whom IMF's been watching for almost two years now." She caught his side-glance. "I've heard about him. So, our mission is to protect Nolan and get the reports in order to get closer to Reinhardt."

"Exactly," Benji answered, then smiled. "Should we choose to accept it, that is."

Holt didn't catch the joke.

Benji cleared his throat. "We're here. It's right over there."

It was a quite modern house in a quiet neighbourhood. Small, but with two storeys and a large terrace on the second floor, an oversized balcony that was almost a flat roof, which made the whole house L-shaped.

She brought the car to a stop.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"I take it you didn't leave it like this."

Benji didn't answer. The place was a mess. The scarce furniture was turned over, the carpet ripped out, empty drawers lay open on the floor, and as Holt tried to turn on the lights, nothing happened.

"I'll take upstairs," she announced, and took out her gun.

Benji started to check the other rooms, but everything was empty.

"He's gone," he eventually conceded.

Holt descended the stairs and tucked away the gun. She took off her cap and a few strands of hair fell out of her bun. "Did they take anything else?"

The techie had switched on his headlamp again, and headed for the fuse box. "No, some of the equipment is in the car and the rest is still here, as far as I can tell," he said, ruffling his short blond hair in exasperation. He flicked various switches, and the lights came back on.

"Let's think this through, where would he be? Where would they take him?" Holt was doing the thing again where her questions didn't sound like questions.

Benji just raised his arms, gesturing that he didn't know.

"You just spent five days with him, he must have told you something."

"We didn't exactly – talk."

She crossed her arms. "What do you mean, you didn't talk?"

"And besides," he ignored her question, "if this is Reinhardt's doing, what does Nolan know about mafia hide-outs?"

Holt found he had a point, but didn't say anything. Something about this felt funny. Why would you need to trash the entire safe house if your sole objective was to kidnap the only person inside? In her experience, these things tended to go quickly, and it was too much to be simply evidence of a struggle. This was a message.

In that moment, the sound of Mozart's _Molto Allegro_ interrupted her musings. Confused, Holt looked around, trying to pinpoint the source. It took both of them a second to realise that it was in fact Benji's mobile. She frowned at him. He simply shrugged.

The number was blocked. They exchanged a brief glance.

"Hello?" he took the call. He didn't say a lot, but Holt could see his face go pale.

"What?" she asked quietly after he'd hung up.

He swallowed. "That was Lionel Reinhardt. We are to come back to Kennedy Ltd. tomorrow at noon, or Nolan will be killed."

"How does he know about me?" she asked suspiciously.

"He must have seen us just then. I don't know, he just said 'both of you'. I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "Don't apologise, this isn't your fault."

"Yes, is it, I shouldn't have left him in the first place."

"This is not helping, Dunn. If you had been here who knows what they would have done to you. Who knows how many there were. I've got a feeling you were lucky."

Again, Benji swallowed.

Holt started pacing. "They probably don't know me. They just know that there's another agent because you and Nolan have been waiting for back-up. Maybe we can use that to our advantage."

"Wait, you actually want to go there?!"

Surprised, she looked at him. "What would you suggest?"

"We – I don't – we should request back-up!"

Holt, who was at the other end of the room by now, took a few steps back and looked up at the other agent. "Because that worked so well for you the first time, right? No," she said sincerely, "we are going back there and are going to get our most important witness back. And those reports, while we're there. If you think about it, this is _the_ chance to get close to them."

"And how exactly are we going to do that?"

She motioned at the laptop. "Show me the venue again."

Together they bent over the computer and started working out their plan.


	4. Caught and Crossed (3)

"I'm not sure about this," Benji admitted some time later.

"It's going to work."

He just nodded slowly, his eyes darting back and forth between notes and files and the computer screen.

"Right?" she asked, and looked into his eyes.

"Right," he said quietly. Her eyes were brown, as it turned out.

"Get some sleep." Without another word, the woman went into the other room. She had left the door open just a crack, and he could see her lying down on the sofa.

Benji looked back at the laptop. If she wasn't going to tell him about her, he would at least pull her file. But only a few minutes later the laptop was closed with an annoyed suppressed sigh. For some reason he couldn't get an uplink to the IMF data base. He tried everything, but couldn't find the problem. Eventually he came to the conclusion that he was too tired and probably overlooking something dead simple. So Agent Holt would remain a mystery for now. Big deal.

Finally, he went to sleep.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Comm check, Oswald?" Benji walked around the car, eyes on the programme open on his phone, monitoring their communication and adjusting the plug in his ear one last time.

"Receiving, Zapruder." Holt got out as well.

"Great, so that works." He pocketed the phone.

Holt was already scrutinising the huge building that held Kennedy Ltd. One side was entirely glass, these offices must have an impressive view over Toronto. It was long but narrow and at least thirty storeys tall. Only a scaffolding towards the end of the long side was ruining the picture of the sleek modern building.

The two agents exchanged a glance. There was still time to get out of this. They were still far enough away.

Since there was the slight chance that they didn't know anything of Holt she had suited up for this, so if that turned out to be the case she could disappear among the business people with her dark blue blazer. Benji stood less chance in that matter, as they had to assume that Nolan had told them everything about him. He was back in his security staff uniform.

"Kennedy Ltd. holds floors ten to fifteen. Nolan is most likely in the corner office on the fifteenth floor. There." Holt's eyes followed his pointing. "I would still feel better if we had at least one more person on the outside as back-up," he thought aloud, silently adding that he would much rather sit in some van himself, monitoring everything on the computers. They might be in control of the security systems of the company, but having to do everything via his phone while being in the middle of everything displeased the technician. Also, again, they had to consider the possibility that Nolan had been forced to tell them that Benji had tried to gain access to the systems.

Agent Holt seemed to lack any second thoughts. "We'll manage without."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

No one paid attention to them as they made their way through the long entrance hall. Kennedy Ltd. was only one of the firms that had their offices here, but they took up five entire floors. Determined, Benji matched Holt's long strides. _Game face._ He bit his lip in order to keep himself from talking, but it didn't work. He always felt the need to talk when he was tense.

"Should we split up already?" the techie murmured.

"Up on the fifteenth. Like we said."

"Are you sure? I was just thinking it might look weird if you talk to a security guard-"

"Do you always talk this much?"

Benji shut up. In the elevator, he checked his phone again.

"Someone waiting for us?" Holt wanted to know.

"No, all clear," he said, feeling slight relief on seeing the camera footage of an empty corridor. He double-checked, scrolling through all the cameras on this floor. He triple-checked, when Holt took his wrist and gently made him lower the phone.

"We can do this."

Benji believed her. There was something in her eyes that left no room for doubt.

Only then the elevator doors parted and someone opened fire.


	5. Caught and Crossed (4)

Holt slammed Dunn in the elevator's corner so that he was covered, pushing herself to the opposite one, all within a second. Breathing heavily, they stood on either side of the retreated doors, pressing against the cold surface and watching the bullets peppering the back of the cabin. As suddenly as it had started, the salvo stopped again.

"Consider this a warning," a voice said.

When he saw that Holt had her gun already at hand, Dunn reached for his own.

"Drop your weapons."

Benji couldn't quite believe it when Holt took out the clip and let the shells clatter to the ground without batting an eyelid. Demandingly she nodded at him. It almost physically hurt him to hear the clatter again. They were without defence now.

"Very good. Now get out."

"Where's Nolan?" Holt called.

"Get out," the voice repeated emphatically.

Holt tucked her gun away and slowly stepped out into the open. Benji followed. Half a dozen armed security guards surrounded the elevator in a half-circle.

"Don't you think this is a bit over the top?" Holt spoke up, in an admirably calm come-on-we're-all-friends-here-voice. "I'm sure we can come to some sort of arrangement."

She wondered why security guards always had to be so tall. Nearly all of them towered even Benji.

Instead of answering, the men jumped at them, three each. Neither of them had expected anything like it, but Holt had enough now. They asked for it, so she would put up a fight. She threw one of them over her shoulder, pressed the next one against the wall and rammed her elbow into his stomach, then kicked number three squarely in the chest, which made him drop his weapon. To her left, a shot fell and hit the ceiling. She flinched and looked over to Benji.

"Run!" she heard him shout when he saw that she momentarily stood a chance of escaping.

For just an instant she hesitated, then Holt let go of the man between her and the wall, rolled over and picked up the dropped gun in the process. The action had placed her in the elevator again, and still on the floor she shot and managed to incapacitate two of the goons before they returned the fire. She smashed herself against the wall again. Her fist met the buttons above her, hit one almost by accident and the doors slid shut.

She was panting. Quickly Holt reached into the inside pocket of her blazer for ammunition and reloaded her own gun. Again, she took cover in the corner next to the doors. They opened.

The silence was hardly bearable.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Benji stood no chance against four of them. His only spark of hope was that Holt had gotten out of there. Although he couldn't be sure that she hadn't been shot, his sight of the elevator had been blocked.

 _We can do this._ Maybe it would turn out be true at least for her.

They moved him along the corridor, and Benji gave up resisting. It almost struck him as ironic when he found himself in front of the room where they were supposed to meet Reinhardt, the corner office.

"Go in."

Dunn looked at the man to his right, apparently the spokesman of the team, silently wondering if he was kidding. Everything felt slightly surreal, as if he would wake up any moment. Something inside him switched to autopilot. He forgot about his fear and opened the door.

The view was impressive, with two walls consisting entirely of floor-to-ceiling windows. The leather sofas, glass desk and sleek book shelf made everything look very posh.

Two of the security guards followed into the office, one of whom locked the door behind the agent and pocketed the key. Without warning a blow was delivered to Benji's head and he went down. Someone took his earpiece. Only when he looked up again, Benji saw that Nolan was standing beside the desk. The squat man didn't look very abducted to him. "What...?" Benji began, still slightly dazed from the blow to his head.

"Nice to meet you, Agent Dunn," a voice suddenly said. "I hope I didn't cause too much of an inconvenience." The swivel-chair behind the desk revolved around, and Benji was face to face with a man he had never seen before. One of the guards went and handed him the earpiece. The man scrutinised it briefly, then put a heavy black stone on top of it, which Benji could only assume was supposed to be a paperweight. "I should explain. My name is Philipp Nolan."

The agent didn't know what to say. He looked at the man he had just spent several days protecting, then the one who had just claimed to be Nolan. Maybe they had hit him harder than intended?

"I believe you've met my good friend Lionel Reinhardt." He motioned to the man standing at the desk, whom Benji had until now taken to be the real Nolan. "Clever, right?" Nolan continued, getting up. He looked at Benji through small black eyes behind thin spectacles, which looked toy-like and somehow ridiculous. "Then again, it wasn't particularly difficult to fool you. You were so greedy to get intel about Reinhardt that you never doubted that story about Ferner and the reports."

"What?" Benji couldn't think of anything else to say, although it dawned on him with increasing rapidity that he had been set up.

"You still don't get it." The man looked almost disappointed for a moment, then continued to slowly pace the room. "I'm the bad guy." His features morphed into an almost child-like smile, which frankly made Benji want to throw up. The agent generally felt a bit dizzy when the full extent of his situation hit him.

"You tapped into my system," the techie said in realisation.

Nolan laughed as if he'd been reminded of something funny that happened a long time ago.

"All the time you've been in the system, that's why the communication failed, that's what caused the mess with the back-up, and why we never had real access to the cameras." He thought of something else. "That's why I couldn't get an uplink to the database."

The smile vanished from Nolan's face within an instant. "What's troubling me is that I can't either." Suddenly, three guns were pointed at Benji. "I want _access._ But since you two are such good friends already, I'll leave this to you, Lionel. I have business to attend to." He threw Reinhardt an ominous look, and nodded at the guard to open the door. Before it shut behind him, he added, without bothering to turn around. "Also I was thinking of getting a new carpet. So don't worry if this one gets... stained."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The corridor seemed to stretch on endlessly in front of Holt. Plain white doors on either side with sterile signs next to them that identified each room with a number. Holt took a second to try and decide what was the best course of action to take, but when she heard footsteps coming closer she just opened one at random and stepped inside, ready to shoot. It was a storage room, holding a photocopier and shelves full of folders. No way out, except for the one she had come in. Never letting go of the gun, the agent stayed behind the door and listened. The footsteps seized, and nothing happened for such a long time that she dared to try the comm, but no answer came. This wasn't going as planned at all. Why had they just opened fire? Whatever happened to negotiating? But apparently the only thing they wanted was them, dead. She needed to get Dunn and get the hell out of here, without him the whole mission would be -

A gunshot punctured the silence. It was close. Two rooms over at maximum. Then footsteps again, leaving in no hurry. Holt swallowed.

"Zapruder," she tried the comm again. "Do you read?"

There was nothing to be heard but a faint rustle. She had a bad feeling.

Holt made a decision, and left her hiding place. The corridor was empty again, and ghostly quiet. This didn't look like a place where weapons had been fired. If she hadn't known better the gunshot might have been nothing but imagination.

She pushed the door open.

It was a small office, shelves full of thick folders and books on one wall, a small sofa and a huge abstract picture on the other. The far wall was entirely glass, one of the floor-to-ceiling windows that made up Kennedy Ltd.'s impressive glass front. Only the scaffolding in front of it was ruining the view a bit. In the middle of the assessable office was a desk, looking too big in the small room. No one was to be seen.

Holt lowered her weapon. Had she misjudged? She was about to try the next room, when she heard something. A low moaning noise, barely audible. Immediately she tensed again, prepared to fire at any moment. Stepping sidewise, she slowly made her way around the monstrosity of a desk. Involuntarily her jaw dropped slightly when she saw the crouched figure leaning against it.

There was a cut across his forehead and in consequence his face was covered in blood. His hand lay weakly on top of him. The amount of blood was sickening. He'd been shot in chest and stomach, his shirt was soaked and it had started forming a puddle around him, staining the grey carpet a shade darker while advancing in every direction. But it wasn't Dunn.

The man's already little form was so sunken and hunched that he looked ridiculously small. But the most horrible thing was that he was still alive. She hurried to get down next to him.

"Sir," she said, trying to sound calm. For the lack of something better she took off her blazer and pressed it onto his wounds. He flinched horribly. "You're going to be okay. I'm going to get help."

"Please," he suddenly rasped, and a cold shiver ran down her spine. "Don't." When his brown eyes met Holt's the shivers increased. With a motion that seemed to cost him tremendous effort he got hold of her wrist, easing her away from the wound. Holt started at the touch. His head tilted to one side, as if it had just been cut off and fallen. He looked at the gun she had placed next to him on the carpet and led her hand to it. Gracelessly, he let go, leaving a red smear on her wrist. "Please," he muttered again.

Every colour was drained from her face when she understood what he had just asked her to do. Her eyes darted back and forth between the gun and his steady gaze.

"Who are you?" he asked when she didn't react. His voice was barely a whisper.

Holt swallowed her emotions. She had to keep him talking. "I'm Agent Holt," she said, having found her voice again, ignored the gun and continued pressing her jacket onto his body in a vain attempt to stop the bleeding. "I'm on a rescue mission, I'm here to get Philipp Nolan."

The man's eyes grew wide. "It's you..." All of a sudden he looked remarkably awake in light of his current condition. "Nolan shouldn't be rescued. He's the one who shot me."

"What did you say?" The agent held his gaze. "Who are you?"

"My name's... my name's Richard Ferner. Nolan planned all of this. It's him and Reinhardt, and his brother." Talking seemed to cause him tremendous pain. The way he contorted his face, combined with all of the blood was grotesque. He kept his sentences short, taking raspy breaths in between.

Holt's voice was shaking. "I don't understand. What are you talking about?"

"Nolan set you up. He's the worst... of all of them. He owns them. I tried to stop him. I swear... I tried..."

"Richard."

"It's a network... to disguise... crimes. He's close to you, to your agency... you just don't... know how..."

"Richard." Holt got closer to him, took his hand and looked him in the eyes. "I need you to tell me everything you know."

"I'll tell you..." he breathed. Sweat was running down his temples. "On one condition."

Ferner looked back at the gun. Holt was feeling sick. "Tell me."

"You'll want the reports... in his safe..." Ferner's eyes became unfocused. "It all comes down to Moclay."

"What's Moclay?" Holt asked. She knew this was a lost cause, but she refused to give up. "Richard, what is Moclay?"

"It's in..." His head lolled to the side for good, he slid down further and made a horrible sound betraying his despair. "Please," he whispered one last time.


	6. Caught and Crossed (5)

Benji swallowed as he realised just how screwed he was. His own gun was out of bullets and therefore useless. As a compensation Reinhardt – apparently – and the two guards were still pointing theirs at him. The door was locked behind him, and even if he managed to somehow reach the windows without being shot, he was still on the 15th floor.

"This is interesting," Reinhardt said, seemingly harmless, and picked up the black stone to indicate the agent's earpiece they had taken from him while he had been knocked out on the floor a few minutes earlier.

Benji didn't bother answering and just looked grimly at his former protégé as he contemplated the communication gear on the glass desk. He made sure Benji was watching, when he shot it twice with uncanny precision. Benji flinched as the glass pane shattered along with it. He didn't want to imagine how it must have sounded to Holt. He sincerely hoped she was all right.

"Now," Reinhardt lowered his gun, which still left a total of two pointed at Benji, and took a couple of steps towards him, "if you don't do as I ask, that's exactly what's going to happen to her."

"To whom?" Benji managed to say.

"Don't get smart on me." Reinhardt's eyes narrowed. "I'm done lying to you. Apparently your precious back-up arrived after all. Your partner. Your fellow agent. The woman."

"You don't even know where she is. Idon't even know where she is." Two seconds later and it would have been a lie, for in that moment Benji spotted a tiny explosive charge being placed against the outermost window pane of the corner office. From the outside. That woman was crazy all right. But now he finally knew what he needed to do: play for time. "Perhaps if you hadn't shot the transmitter, you could have tracked her with it," the technician suggested.

He regretted it almost instantly, for Reinhardt suddenly stood immediately next to him, pressing his gun against the side of his head.

Then, everything happened at once. The floor-to-ceiling pane shattered into millions of tiny fragments, adding to those of the former desktop. A shot was fired, and Reinhardt broke down next to Benji. The agent instinctively went for his gun, but was already overtaken by one of the giant bodyguards. From the corner of his eye he saw Holt struggling with the other one, kicking the guy in the side, and managed to catch a glimpse of a weapon flying out of the broken window. Benji found himself pressed against a cabinet, which wasn't exactly pleasant, but this man's fighting style was crude, and not for the first time his IMF training came in handy. With a few precise movements Benji threw him over. More through luck than actual planning, the goon's head hit the remaining part of the shattered desk and was knocked out cold. For a split second Benji couldn't believe his luck, then he heard Holt cry out.

The man, who looked about twice her size, held her crudely by her hair, and was pressing her down on her knees into the sea of glass fragments which were piercing through her trousers and into her shins. His arms went around her neck, about to execute a fatal twist, when Benji pulled the trigger of the gun that had been disregarded on the floor the entire time.

The giant broke down immediately, half onto Holt, once more adding weight to her legs. She winced, but struggled away from him, small patches of blood adding a shiny texture to her dark trousers.

"Are you hurt?" Benji hurried to help her up, processing all the additional blood on her hands and white shirt.

Impatiently she pushed him away, although she actually could have used someone to steady her. "Where's Nolan?"

Benji wasn't sure where to start. "He left. This is Reinhardt, he posed as Nolan. He's the one I thought I was protecting, the whole thing was a set-up."

"I know." Without hesitation Holt went towards Reinhardt, who was leaning motionlessly against the wall, blood from his shoulder slowly soaking his shirt. Holt slapped him right across the face. Once. Twice. He slowly came to his senses.

"Where's Philipp Nolan?" she repeated her question.

"You'll never find him..." he mumbled. "He's long gone. But he's watching..."

Holt slapped him again when he started to pass out again, and decided to take a different approach. "Where is your safe?"

Despite everything, Reinhardt managed a dirty grimace that was supposed to be a slimy grin.

"I can kill you right now, or I can make you suffer," Holt stated, her hair falling into her face. She was done playing nice.

In a weird way Benji felt impressed by her, and decided to stick to the background.

"The safe holding the documents," Holt persisted. "Where is it."

The man on the floor actually started to laugh. That was enough. She pulled the trigger, and Reinhardt's scream gave Benji chills down his spine. She had shot the guy in the leg.

"Where?" she repeated.

"The vault," he panted, every colour drained from his face. Weakly he indicated a direction.

"Dunn," she said, without taking her aim from Reinhardt, although he didn't look capable of doing very much now.

It took Benji a moment to understand. "Yeah, yeah, right," he then said, and went to the wall. In retrospect, the picture hanging there was so obviously hiding a safe that it was almost ridiculous. He took the painting away and found himself presented with a relatively simple combination lock. He looked at his fellow agent.

"Combination," she said demandingly to Reinhardt, threatening to step on his injury. Despite all the hatred he felt for this man, Benji looked away.

There was no answer until she provocatively loaded a new bullet into the chamber.

"Twenty-two, thirty-three, zero, four," came the hissed response. "Left, right, left, left."

She looked back at Dunn, who turned the lock respectively. The safe opened, revealing a small briefcase. Benji took it out and opened it.

"Looking good," he confirmed with a nod after skimming through the papers.

"Thank you," Holt said to Reinhardt, and pulled the trigger. Reinhardt sagged down against the wall, leaving a bloody trail.

Benji swallowed as she came towards him. "Are you okay?" he asked. She did look horribly pale.

Holt felt like she wanted to faint then and there, but that was a luxury she couldn't give in to. "I'm fine." She met his eyes, and for a moment she felt unsteady in a different, funny way. "But we need to get out of here. Someone must have heard all this, and these guys must still be around, and even if that's not the case, I don't want to be here when he wakes up," she said, nodding at the still unconscious bodyguard.

"You're right." He took the briefcase. She straightened her blouse as if that would improve anything at this point, and headed towards the shattered window. "Whoa, wait, wait, wait, where are you going?"

Holt stopped short. "Well, we can hardly take the elevator and leave through the lobby looking like this, can we?" He looked at her bloody clothes, her messed up hair, the ripped sleeve of her shirt and the slight bruise in her face, noticed her blazer was gone. Surely he didn't look much better. Together they would make a fine picture, she was right.

"Come on. The scaffolding's not far down this side of the building, this is how I got here in the first place." With that, she was already out of the window.

Benji carefully stepped closer to the edge. 15th floor, that was nothing. He remembered removing that window pane in the Burj Khalifa back in Dubai. What had that been, 119th, 120th floor? This was nothing. Still, it looked awfully high. Just don't look down _,_ he tried to tell himself.

He stepped outside, and immediately reconsidered. This was insane. Benji felt like he was suddenly in _The_ _Matrix_. The ledge he was standing on was narrow, and he pressed himself to the windows behind him as hard as he could. Holt was already further along to his right. He carefully moved along the building. Only then, after a couple of metres, he made the one mistake. He looked down. Tiny cars rushed through the streets below. He felt a touch of vertigo, and his grip on the briefcase tightened.

He closed his eyes. He had to. _Deep breath._

"Dunn."

Suddenly, to his right. Holt was right next to him again. She must have gone back.

"Dunn, look at me."

He looked at her. Brown eyes, fixating his blue ones.

"Keep looking at me. Take my hand." Her left hand found his right. He closed his fingers around it. "Do not look down." She pronounced every word very carefully, her gaze not letting go of him. Even if he had wanted to look somewhere else, he couldn't have done so. She squeezed his hand. "All right?"

He nodded. "Let's go," he managed to say. She started moving again, and after a few excruciating minutes they reached the promised scaffolding. Sweat stood on both their foreheads by the time she let go of his hand. But there was no time. They rushed down the ladders, and Benji felt considerable relief at the sensation of solid ground beneath his feet. But a side-glance at his partner made him uneasy again. Holt looked as if she was about to pass out.

Benji moved to steady her.

"No, I'm okay," she said promptly.

"You don't seem very okay," Benji said quietly.

"Let's just... let's just get to the car."


	7. Caught and Crossed (6)

Author's note: I changed the title of this whole story because this was written as one continuous thing, but devided into four parts.

At first I thought I would publish these parts as individual stories, but I changed my mind because they do belong together.

I hope I didn't confuse too much.

Cheers.

* * *

Benji had kept an eye on the rear-view mirror, but no one had followed or tried to shoot them, at least until now.

He watched Holt climb out of the car and immediately hold onto the door. She had spent the whole drive with her forehead against the cool glass of the window, eyes half-closed.

"Let me help you," he tried. She was so focused on standing that she didn't really notice when he put an arm around her. Benji steadied her until they were inside, against her half-conscious protests that she could walk. Something was definitely wrong.

Once inside, he dropped the briefcase and placed her carefully on the armchair, since it was the nearest resting place in sight and also the only piece of furniture that had not been thrown over. Apart from turning the desk upright the other night in order to have a working space they hadn't bothered to tidy up.

She looked as if she was asleep. Benji made sure she couldn't fall, then went to get some warm water and the medical kit.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"What are you doing?" she said a little later, wide awake all of a sudden, when he gently washed the dried blood of her hands.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to hurt you. It's just, you've still had some tiny shards of glass on your skin, they're tough to catch. The wounds aren't deep or anything, but I can imagine it's not exactly pleasant." He grimaced apologetically. "Sorry."

She looked at him. Apparently she had passed out for a couple of minutes, because save for a small part of her left hand she was clean of blood and the tiny bruises hardly visible.

"I'm almost finished, just stay still."

Agent Holt didn't know what to say. She flinched slightly when Benji disinfected it.

"There you go, good as new." He smiled, slightly unsure.

"Thanks," she said after a moment. "Are you okay?" she added.

"Yes, I'm fine. I mean, it didn't go as planned, but we've got it, right?" He smiled again, quite confidently this time, and walked over to the briefcase.

"Yeah," she said quietly. "I'll be right back." She stood up, ignoring the fact that it hurt, and vanished into the other room only to re-appear hardly sixty seconds later. She'd just changed into a pair of black trousers and a shirt that was less bloody. "I need to tell you something."

Expectantly, he looked back at her.

"When we split up, I took cover in some office. I-" Only now she seemed to notice something. "Wait, you got us back here?"

"I thought-"

"Dunn, are you completely insane, they know about this house! We need to get out of here, right now."

Benji swallowed, realising that she was right, and picked up the briefcase.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Philipp Nolan smiled. This would make things even easier. He picked up his phone to make a short call. His men were already in place. He would leave the rest to them.

He dialled another number. "Cedric," he said. "We need to meet." He would have said it was a shame about Lionel, but for some reason he found it all rather funny. But he would keep that to himself right now.

He hung up and looked at the video footage again, then he dialled a third number. It would be time for a vacation. Abroad. Europe, maybe. But first he would try one more time.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Where do we go?" Benji asked when Holt started up the car.

"I don't know. I don't even know what's happening. I always thought that Nolan was supposed to be the victim, not the other way around."

Benji was still working on that himself. But all constructive criticism his brain could come up with was _What the hell just happened?_

She was already exceeding the speed limit. "We need to get rid of this car."

"We can ditch it somewhere in town," Benji suggested. "Some parking lot maybe."

Holt nodded. "In town is good. We need to disappear for a while. New identities. We'll check into a hotel and I'll organise plane tickets from there."

"Where to?" Benji asked slightly unsure.

Holt shook her head. "Just away from here."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

They had stopped at a red light.

He had always considered obeying traffic regulations an amateur mistake, but now he was sure of it. Playing by the rules always got you in trouble. He pulled up next to their car, pulled the hand-brake but left the motor running, then got out of the truck.

Without making much of a fuss, he opened the door of the car right next to him, and fired twice in quick succession. The two passengers hardly had time to look surprised.

He dragged the woman out first, then strolled around the car and got the guy as well. Both of them landed in the back-compartment of his truck, where they were joined by a small briefcase seconds later.

He left their car the way it was, motor running and doors wide open, and got back into his own vehicle.

The light turned green.


	8. Caught and Crossed (7)

_...Holt... can you..._

 _...come on...Holt..._

 _...please...don't be..._

"Holt!"

She opened her eyes. Her head was tilted to one side and her neck hurt where the tranquilliser dart had hit.

"Finally," Benji said relieved. "Can you hear me?"

"Dunn..." He sat on the ground in a corner of the room, a few metres away from her. Her mouth felt dry. She blinked a couple of times, trying to focus. A wide room, all concrete, several windows on one wall, tinted white, dirty, no view whatsoever. Crates, single and in stacks, stood around here and there. She tried to move but found herself secured to one of the buttresses that were evenly scattered through the hall. It seemed to be some kind of storage area.

"Are you okay? You've been out for some time."

"I think so, yeah," she said. Dunn was secured as well, apparently with two sets of handcuffs, one around his wrists, the other one securing the first pair to a tube of some kind, which ran along the wall behind him. She took a deep breath and tried to focus on what was important now. "How many are there?"

"So far I've seen three. But maybe there's more, I haven't been awake that long either. Are you sure you're all right?"

Holt had closed her eyes and held them shut tightly, as if she was waiting for pain to subside. "Did they say anything?" She opened her eyes again and looked at him across the room.

Benji shifted uncomfortably. "Not a word. I don't think they want to talk much."

Holt straightened her back and struggled to get a look at her manacles. Apparently these guys weren't short on handcuffs. Several pairs connected to each other forced her to stay in place, leaning against the thick stone pillar. But she did have a bit of scope. "Don't worry, we'll get out of here."

She sounded as if she actually meant it. How did she always manage that? But Agent Dunn did not have time to reply, for the heavy door on the other end of the hall opened in that moment. Contrary to Holt, who could only hear steps drawing nearer, Benji was facing them. Four men had entered the hall, and suddenly nothing made sense anymore. One of them was Nolan. Another one looked exactly like Reinhardt. But that couldn't be.

They stepped into Holt's field of vision, and her mind started racing. "You son of a-"

"No need to get rude, dear," Nolan said, straightening his tie. He bent down and ran a finger along the side of her face. Holt was disgusted. Who did this guy think he was.

Subconsciously, Benji's hands curled into fists behind his back.

"You will tell us everything we want to know."

"I'm pretty sure I shot you the other day," she said to Reinhardt. Her mind spiralled back to Richard Ferner. _Him and Reinhardt, and his brother._ Hisbrother _._ Brother as in twins?

"I'm sure you didn't mean to interrupt me." Nolan's smile was that of a snake. "You will tell us everything we want to know," he started over.

"And why would I do that?"

"Because if you don't, he will pay the price." He turned to Benji. "Get him free."

The other two men approached Dunn in the corner, blocking the sight momentarily for Holt when they kicked him in the stomach a couple of times, causing him to cough in a suffocated way. They opened the outer pair of handcuffs, dragged him up.

"Who do you work for?" Nolan began, watching all of this with a half amused, half bored attitude.

"I work independently."

Reinhardt laughed. "Independent of that huge agency that supplies you with money and identity and fancy equipment?"

Benji cursed himself for letting slide so much. Also he was developing a feeling of terror when he thought about the fact that he had spent five days alone in an empty house with someone who was obviously part of this. He had no idea who this guy was now, except that he looked exactly like the one Holt had shot. It had to be masks. He wasn't sure how that was possible, but it was the only explanation he could come up with. So was this guy the real deal?

"Look, all I would like to know is who knows about us," Nolan said almost sweetly.

"Mr. Nolan is very sensitive about his privacy, so I'm sure you'll understand how important this is to us," Reinhardt added helpfully.

The two guards held Benji on either arm. He braced himself.

"Why?" Benji asked, talking over the pain.

Reinhardt turned to him. "Oh, you wanna talk?"

Benji ignored him. "You had plenty of chances to torture and kill me when we were cooped up in a house that no one was likely to enter for days. Why this?"

Reinhardt looked as if he wasn't sure whether he should respond to this. He and Nolan exchanged a glance, and the latter nodded. "We might as well tell them since they won't leave this room alive."

Holt saw her chance, now that their attention was with Benji. If she could just reach...

"Does the name Owen Davian ring a bell?"

Benji tried to catch his fellow agent's eye. What were the odds that those two missions were connected?He opened his mouth, but Nolan didn't give him time to reply.

"Brilliant business man. He was a good friend of mine. We were pretty close at the time. Thick as thieves, you might wanna say. Only then he was brutally murdered." He took one more step and was no way too close for Benji's liking. "Do you know how he was murdered, Agent Dunn?"

Benji swallowed, shifting in the two guys' merciless grip. He knew far too well what had happened in Shanghai. Not only what could be read in the reports, he also had a far more personal memory of that mission. For the first time he was genuinely glad that no one but Ethan Hunt and himself possessed knowledge of his little help in that matter.

"I've been told he was held in front of a truck. Not a nice way to die. And that's coming from me." Nolan shook his head. "I was right about him. He wasn't careful enough. Always had a taste for the offence. Didn't know when to hide. Owen thought it was clever, having someone on the inside. So he made a mistake in getting involved with you, one which we do not intend to repeat." He started making his way back across the room, towards Holt. Reinhardt followed him like a dog. Her manacles clattered.

"It took me long enough to find someone you're interested in," Nolan continued, motioning at Reinhardt, "but after all these years, here we are." For a second, he paused, pondering how to continue. He clasped his hands behind his back. "I have strong reasons to believe that your agency is behind Owen's death, especially since you killed his contact too, effectively terminating the partnership. And I'd like to spare myself from any trouble concerning that agency. I want to know how big this is. Who I am up against. It would only be fair to put the cards on the table, don't you think? I would hate to end up like Owen, now that I've inherited – and improved – his network. So, if you please, who did you say you were working for?"

Holt ignored him completely and instead focused on Reinhardt. "How's your brother?" she asked maliciously.

Reinhardt looked at her quizzically. Nolan cracked another snaky smile.

Holt kept quiet.

Nolan sighed as if he was disappointed, and turned to his goons.

Without batting an eyelid they started thrashing Benji. The Brit didn't stand a chance. Despite trying his best and even managing to deliver a kick to the knee of one of them, with the handcuffs still on his wrists they easily overpowered him and he crashed onto the floor within seconds, without any cover to avoid the kicks.

You wanted the field, Benji, a voice in his head said. Happy now?

Holt managed to keep her face devoid of emotion but there was a pained look in her eyes. A strand of hair fell into her face when she shot Nolan a glare. "Stop this."

"Enough," he said at once. His backers let go of Dunn, who was cringing, lying on his side, trying to catch his breath. "I'm listening?"

Holt remained silent.

"FBI? NSA?" he suggested, as if he was trying to help her find the solution of a crossword puzzle. "CIA? Homeland?"

"Let him go."

That made him laugh. "Oh, I'm sorry, are you trying to negotiate?"

"Negotiating would imply that I have some sort of respect for you. I am demanding."

Nolan huffed annoyed. He was starting to lose his patience. But so was Holt. She was well aware that he was never going to let either of them just walk away after what had already happened, she just needed a little more time.

"This is the last time I am going to ask nicely," he said, bending down again to bring his face on one level with hers and simultaneously block her view of Benji. "Who do you work for?"

"Let him go and I'll talk."

Instead of answering, a wave of his hand followed. A perfectly inconspicuous gesture. But a second later, Benji cried out. Holt couldn't see what had happened, but the sound alone sent a wave of rage through her body, in an extent that surprised herself.

Something to her right snapped with a soft click.

The bent hairpin landed on the concrete.

Rattling, the chain of handcuffs trailed through the air as she hurled herself up and hit Nolan straight in the face, sending him tumbling backwards against Reinhardt. His goons were remarkably fast in discarding their first victim and jumped at her. For an instant she caught sight of Benji, who was lying motionlessly, but there was no time for that now. Each of the two men was easily two heads taller than Holt, but as far as she was concerned that meant nothing. With a couple of steps she was behind one of them, swiftly threw the handcuffs around his neck and pulled. His hands moved up to the chain that was strangling him, but before he could do anything to prevent his fate, Holt kicked him in the spine, sending him to the floor. The second guy was already at her, and he had produced a gun out of nowhere. He had been trying to get an opportunity to shoot without hitting his colleague.

The woman threw herself against him and slammed her elbow into his face. Within seconds she had gotten hold of his gun and did not hesitate to shoot. Due to the close range she only wounded his shoulder. In consequence he let out a scream and landed on the floor a couple of metres away.

Holt turned back to Nolan, but he was nowhere to be seen. Instead Reinhardt was sitting in the same spot as before, when Nolan had crashed into him. What a complete wimp _,_ she thought, when a suddenly delivered blow sent her down. She managed to roll, landed on one knee, and pulled the trigger. The goon went down like a statue on the height of a revolution.

But only a moment later she was already back on the floor. The pairs of handcuffs that were still attached to her wrist landed in a spiral next to her head, while the gun flew out of her grip and slid over the sleek floor. She had momentarily forgotten about Reinhardt.

"Impressive," he said, standing over her with a discomforting calm. He crouched down. A small knife flashed in his hand.

The blade was so sharp that Holt didn't even feel it cut into her skin. Only the warmth of her own blood crawling thickly down her neck an instant later confirmed the injury.

"Tell me what I want to know and I'll make it quick."

"No, thank you," she hissed between clenched teeth and rammed her knee into his stomach, effectively shoving him away from her. She started towards the gun when something stabbed into her shoulder. She cried out and fell, the saving firearm just out of reach. The blade was ripped out, leaving a sharp pain. Again, she could feel him stand next to her.

"These must be annoying," he said, stepping onto the handcuffs she was still trailing after her, thus keeping her left hand pinned to the floor. The throbbing shoulder wasn't helping either. "Shall I?"

The agent forced herself to look up at him. In his hand was a small silver key, the promise of getting rid of the manacles. She had underestimated him, and now she paid the price of him mocking her. Her gaze shifted, and she could see Benji lying in the far corner. He still had not moved. Her pulse was ringing in her ears.

In one rapid movement she pulled away her arm and was back on her feet. It felt like something exploded in her wounded shoulder, but the pain was worth it: The chain being ripped away from underneath his foot was enough to let Reinhardt stagger slightly. The shiny little key flew out of his fingers.

She took the advantage of having him off balance and did not hesitate to kick him with all the blind fury that was burning in her.

He fell, hitting his head on the sharp edge of one of the crates. He grimaced in pain and rolled sideways on the floor.

A single gunshot ripped the air. Then a pool of blood started forming around Reinhardt's head.

For a second Holt's panting breaths were the only sound as she was standing a few metres away from the body, feet apart, left hand steadying under her gun which she was clinging onto with white knuckles. Her fingers started to tremble slightly when she lowered it, causing the handcuffs to jingle softly. Then she picked up the key and bolted over to the other motionless figure on the floor.

"Dunn," she called out, bending down and carefully getting rid of his handcuffs, not caring about her own. They had broken his arm, she recognised.

"Dunn, can you hear me?" His eyes remained closed when she carefully turned him on his back, holding his head steady. "No, no no no, you are not gonna – Dunn!" She was yelling. With shaky fingers she felt for his pulse.

"No," she said, more quietly now, almost every emotion draining away.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

" _No!" she shouted into the comm. "No, we agreed, we are going to do this together."_

" _It's okay."_

 _She stared at the lonely building in the distance and turned back to the family. The little girl was looking at her with eyes as big as saucers, full of fear that all this might not be over just yet after all._

" _Yes, it's_ going _to be okay once you get your ass back here," she tried to reason, pronouncing every word very clearly._

 _The reply was a second of static rustle, followed by someone yelling in the background._

" _That's an order!" she said loudly, leaving no room for doubt, and causing more disturbed glances. The mother drew her child closer, and the husband put an arm protectively around his wife. Of course, they could only hear one side of the conversation._

" _You can set it up as a rescue mission. Just tell them you went back for me."_

" _What are you talking about?"_

" _I know they like to pretend they're all strict about this, but they won't charge you for this, trust me."_

" _Whatever you think you're doing, stop it."_

" _You just stay out there. Save the world."_

" _Don't be ridiculous." Now it was getting pathetic. "Please. Just – come out."_

" _You need to go. Promise me to get out of there. I'm serious. Don't come back."_

" _Connor!"_

" _It's okay," he said again. She could hear the smile in his voice._

" _No." Her voice broke when the full extent of this dawned on her. "No, Connor, please, you can't-"_

 _The building exploded with a deafening sound, but all Holt could hear was silence. The comm had gone dead._

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"No," she whispered, digging her fingers into his shoulder while her right hand was almost subconsciously stroking his cheek. Blood was soaking the back of her shirt, but she hardly noticed.

Benji opened his eyes just a crack. "That's nice," he murmured, and leaned into her hand before he decided that falling asleep was a better option still.


	9. Caught and Crossed (8)

...

 _«J'espère que non.»_

 _«Cela n'a pas d'importance.»_

 _«Si vous insistez -»_

 _«Oui, je tiens absoluement.»_

Benji could hear somebody speaking French rapidly. One voice was calm if a little doubtful, the other one sounded reasonable and insisting, managing to express a distinct no-shit-attitude without being impolite. He caught a couple of phrases, _«Il a été très chanceux, mais comment...?»,_ followed by something that was spoken too fast for him to comprehend at once. A couple of hushed « _Je comprend»_ s ensued. He heard a beeping noise and an apology, « _Il faut que j'y ailles»._

Benji opened his eyes and saw a small hospital room. The door was just being closed from the outside and a woman was slowly walking over to the window. She was wearing a paramedic's shirt that was at least one size too big for her lean stature.

The curtains were not drawn, and the sun was just rising, as it seemed.

"Holt? Is that you?"

She turned to him. For a second her features brightened when she saw that he was awake, then she looked more concerned.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

"I don't know," he admitted, sitting up. Somewhat surprised he saw that his left arm was in a cast.

"Take it easy." She sat down next to him. Benji noticed a cut of considerable length on her neck stretching from underneath her chin up the left side of her jaw, patched with several steri-strips. "You took quite a beating."

"And who's fault is that, I wonder," he said grinning. He wasn't serious.

She, however, suddenly looked at him as if he had insulted her. "I couldn't just tell them," she was lacking a word and stood up again, " _things_. I had to-"

"I was kidding," he said, a bit taken aback. "I know all that."

That silenced her. She closed her mouth, glaring at him so fiercely that he didn't dare ask whether she was okay or what had happened.

After a second, she snatched a phone from the windowsill. "I'm gonna call headquarters." Ignoring his disbelieving expression, she proceeded to the door. "I'll let the doctor know that you woke up."

With that she slammed the door shut behind her, leaving Benji sitting there, not comprehending a thing.

She had sounded nice, speaking French.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Holt leaned against the door from the outside, only to immediately shrink back from the surface again. The cut on her face wasn't deep, but her shoulder had required stitching. A few people were on the corridor but none paid too much attention to her. Once out of there she felt horrible for her reaction. She hadn't even filled him in on the cover story she'd cooked up.

Just why did those memories have to come back? She had managed to block them just fine for the past eighteen months, so why now?

Of course she had already reported the most important facts to HQ, only to learn that on top of everything, it would take an entire _day_ to get them out of there. Which meant spending one more night in Toronto, and also going back to that not so safe house once more in order to collect their stuff. But if there was one place she wanted to be any less, it was this hospital, so she had no choice.

Extraction was not what it used to be.

Miserably, Holt went to find that doctor again.


	10. Caught and Crossed (9)

They arrived at the dreaded house after Holt had discharged herself from the hospital. The doctors had been reluctant, but essentially okay with letting Benji go. The break was clean and would heal without trouble. Along with the countless bruises it required painkillers, but was not really a reason to make him stick to a hospital bed.

Their opinion differed when it came to Holt's shoulder, but she wouldn't hear anything about it. She hated hospitals.

Benji watched her stride through the rooms, collecting pieces of equipment from all over the place and shoving them not particularly gently into the bags. He was at the computer, already on finding out what Nolan had had access to and trying to assess how much damage he had done.

They had hardly exchanged a word since she'd left his hospital room that morning, and now the sun was already low in the sky. She had either avoided him or had looked so withdrawn and somehow angry that he had kept quiet as well, although by now the silence was killing him.

Holt zipped the last bag shut. "I'll just check upstairs," she announced, and turned away from him.

Benji looked up. He had seen enough of the lower floor during the past week as well. He checked one last time that the door was locked and followed Holt upstairs. Due to the flat roof, the upper floor was small. There was a tiny kitchenette and a sofa, and the sliding door in the glass front that led onto the terrace. A single door led to another bedroom. It was a nice safe house, Benji had to admit that, but there was no sugar-coating what had happened here.

"Hey," he began quietly. He didn't want to startle her, coming after her like that, nevertheless she flinched, and turned away from the window to face him. "I wanted to thank you. For getting me out of there." He tried to smile.

Holt just shrugged.

Benji noticed that she was still very pale. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine," she suddenly shouted. "I'm perfectly all right, it's not as if I almost died because someone who was supposed to be on my side didn't notice that he's been living with a notorious super villain for a week, who not only tapped into our communication but also almost got into our agency's system!"

Benji didn't know where that outburst came from. It was as if she had swallowed her fury all day long and now it was coming out as one big eruption.

"So, for your information, apart from a stabbed shoulder and a knife going over my face, _and_ the loss of that briefcase, the _only_ thing we had to go on, yes, I am all right, thank you for asking!" she yelled.

"What is your problem, anyway? At first you don't talk to me all day and now this," Benji asked sharply. He was genuinely mad now, for the simple reason that he did not understand. " _I_ messed up, and _I_ almost died, you had nothing to do with it, you don't even like me!"

She didn't react in any way; her face was a mask of tension. Benji had run out of things to say.

"So what do you care?" he added, because he couldn't stand the silence.

"You just don't want to understand, do you?" She was still shouting, which scared him to death if he was honest. "You might be unaware of this, but we're supposed to be a team. So I do care. And besides, you have absolutely no idea what it's like to lose a partner, so don't talk to me about dying." Holt's teeth were clenched and she was trembling because she was so mad, but now there was something else, too. For an instant they just stood there staring at each other, then she turned away, opened the sliding door and stepped outside onto the roof.

Benji watched her, slightly dumbstruck, not sure what to do.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Holt sat down on the step that divided the lower part of the flat roof from the actual terrace of the apartment, facing away from the windows. A couple of minutes later, Benji sat down beside her, handing her a steaming cup.

"Tea? Honestly?" She hated her voice for sounding so thin and quiet.

"With Scotch."

She took it, and his smile went unnoticed.

"Sorry about back there," she croaked. "I didn't mean to..."

"It's fine."

"It's nothing against you, it's just... been a tough day."

"It's not just that, though, is it?" He waited a couple of seconds.

Holt didn't answer.

Benji decided to try something. "You know, on my very first mission a member of our team got killed. Trevor. He got shot, just like that, in broad daylight. I didn't know him before that mission, but he was a great agent. He helped me a lot, being out in the field for the first time." He paused, a little unsure how to go on, and looked at her. "When he was – when there were just two of us left, it was pretty horrible. I can't even begin to imagine how horrible it must be when you really know each other. Jane... our team leader – she took it pretty badly, and I was sort of left over, it sucked."

"Jane Carter?" She still looked straight ahead.

"Yes."

Holt just nodded and bit her lip.

"So... you want to tell me? About your partner?"

She took a sip from the mug. He gave her time, watching the steam rise from his own.

"I can't tell you a lot," she finally said. "It's classified." She took a deep breath. He looked at her. "We had this mission near Samara, Russia. We had reached a point where the only way to protect certain... assets was to... to do something that would have resulted in both of us getting disavowed. But we were ready to meet that responsibility," she continued. "We..." She closed her hands around the mug. "It would have worked out perfectly. Only he spontaneously changed the plan." Her face became stone again. "I can't tell you what exactly happened. But he... he got himself killed, which gave me time to escape along with the people we had to protect." She sat completely still. "He sacrificed himself."

Benji had listened intently. Aware of the risk that she was likely to smash him into the glass front behind them, he put his arm around her. "I'm sorry," he said, cupping her uninjured shoulder with his hand.

To his surprise, she didn't do anything to prevent it. She simply took a big gulp of Scotch tea and impatiently rubbed a hand over her face.

"It's not your fault."

They sat in silence for a while. It was chilly, but the hot tea in combination with the alcohol did its job.

Benji found himself annoyed by a question. He carefully removed his arm. "Did you... I mean, were you..."

Holt looked at him. "What, lovers?" He nodded briefly. She looked back at her mug and smiled, shaking her head. "No. No, he was my best friend. More like a... a brother, if you will. You know. Partners." For the first time, she smiled at Benji. "We were a good team."

He smiled back. "What was his name?"

"Connor."

Their thoughts trailed off and they both just sat there, drinking flavoured tea.

"I thought about quitting," she said. "Going back to a desk job. Or leave the IMF entirely. But I couldn't. After what he did for me I feel like I owe him to stay in the field. But ever since that happened I don't work well in a team. And it's been over a year now." She took another slug. "Maybe I should drop it after all. Request to get back into an office once we're back in D.C."

"You shouldn't quit." She met Benji's eyes, quizzically. He held her gaze, and for the first time she noticed his mismatched eyes. On first glance they were simply of a dark greyish blue, nothing unusual. But he had this tiny spot of brown in his right eye. "You really shouldn't," he persisted.

She wanted to ask what made him sound so sure. After all he had almost died because of her. "I never asked your first name," she said instead.

Benji was honestly surprised by that. "Benji. Well, Benjamin, but, you know."

She smiled at him again. He found he really liked that. It made him feel warm. Although it might have been the tea.

"Benji..." She chuckled softly.

"What?"

"Nothing. It suits you." He wished she would never stop smiling at him. "I'm Skye." She extended her right hand, overly polite. "Just Skye." She was mocking him. He loved it. They shook hands, which was a bit awkward with the mugs and various injuries, and there was that chuckle again.

Their eyes locked. _Say something, Benji._ "Skye?"

"Yes?"

"I tagged the briefcase."

For a second she couldn't have looked more incredulous, then a smile spread over her face, almost a grin.

"Nothing's shown up yet, but I'm sure I can track it at the latest when we're back to more trusty equipment." Benji grinned back at her.

Skye laughed lightly, as if she was a bit out of practice, then sighed relieved. "I owe you an apology," she said, looking way more at ease with herself than just a few minutes ago. "I underestimated you."

The warm light from the setting sun was long gone, and their Scotch tea had vanished.

"Let's get out of here," he said and got up.

Skye nodded. "Benji? Thank you." She indicated the now empty mug, but he wasn't sure if she was talking about the drink.

"You're welcome."


	11. Caught and Crossed (10)

"I still can't believe that all of this was set up," Skye said when they sat in the private plane back to D.C. the next morning. Everything had started out so small. "I've never experienced anything like it. Contacting us in the most innocent way and posing as the victim. That's like Agatha Christie, to say the least."

"Yeah," Benji said distractedly. He kept looking out of the window until he felt her glance.

"You're new to this, aren't you?"

He smiled sheepishly. "Is it that obvious?" Benji looked at the floor. "I mean, relatively. I finished field training last October. How can you tell?"

"You're still freaked out."

He laughed. "Little bit, yeah."

"And you're bad at being quiet."

"Some say I'm incurable."

"It's as if you're still trying to figure out how to act in the field," she said. "You don't need to force yourself into something that isn't you. It's fine to... not be quiet. You know, when someone really wants to shut up, they say just enough every now and then to not be suspicious. You don't have that down yet."

Benji scrutinised her for so long that it couldn't be dismissed anymore, wanting to figure her out. "But you do."

Skye almost flinched, as if she'd said too much.

"We should get breakfast once we're back," Benji stated, brushing the subject away.

She smiled, smelled her tea and relieved it of the tea bag. Apart from peanuts, the in any way unremarkable private plane was outfitted rather poorly what concerned food, and she, too, could feel her stomach rumbling. "Yeah, we should."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Instead of the cafeteria the two agents found themselves in Chief Analyst William Brandt's office. The minute their plane had touched down, they had been called to show up immediately. Now they stood facing the analyst, hungry and expectant.

"Nolan escaped." A simple statement.

Benji had assumed as much, but hearing it from Brant like this really drove the point home.

"I know," Holt said. Her voice was so icy that it made Benji a bit anxious.

Instead of answering, Brandt tossed a couple of big photographs over to them. "We diverted an emergency team of sweepers. That's what they found when they got there."

The pictures showed the storage area where they had been captured. The three dead bodies lay pretty far apart from each other.

Benji swallowed at the sight. Until now he hadn't consciously realised what Skye had done when he had passed out. That she had killed for him.

Holt put the first picture behind the next and almost froze halfway through the motion as soon as she saw it. It was a close-up shot of the dead body. The face was mutilated and subsequently unrecognisable. She could only assume it was Reinhardt. There was a lot of blood. She suddenly felt cold, and her head started spinning again. She took the last photo, but on glimpsing the slashed open body of one of the guards put it away again.

"I didn't..." she broke off. "I shot those men. But nothing more." She tossed the pictures back on Brandt's desk.

"We assumed as much from your call. They must have returned after you left. There was no ID on the bodies either, so that they're useless to us. And now the Reinhardt brothers are dead and Nolan is on the run."

Agent Holt didn't respond.

"Brothers," Benji repeated. "So no masks."

"No, not this time Benji," Brandt said, sounding exhausted. "We now know it wasn't just Lionel. We had some intel on this before, but nothing added up. Only thanks to your mission it all makes sense now. Together with his brother Cedric he was the leader of a huge mafia ring, but I'm sure you already know that. Only it's useless now since both of them were killed by you, Agent Holt."

"I had no choice," Holt said matter-of-factly.

"So they posed as just one person so that we would think it's just one of them?" Benji asked, confused.

"That's what we assume," Brandt said.

"How come we didn't know about this?" Skye sounded somewhat accusing. "Why didn't we have more information, how come we weren't even told what Reinhardt looked like? We had his picture linked with Nolan's name."

"Well, he was in our system..." Benji dared to say.

"But why did nobody notice that?"

The analyst raised his shoulders, not quite a shrug, but close. He didn't like anyone other than himself raging in his office. "A couple of days ago we still believed that Nolan was the most innocent guy out of all of them. Only now all the deep research is done. Maybe you shouldn't have left the scene in the first place, then you could have seen who's responsible for this," he raised his voice, pointing back at the photographs.

"I had to get Agent Dunn to the hospital, so who do you think you are to question my-"

Benji held her back before she could say something career-threatening. He put his hand on her shoulder and looked at her, trying to communicate 'Let me handle this'.

Her glance was ice and could have meant the most sarcastic 'Fine' imaginable, or any other word starting with F.

"Brandt, these people are good. You know they are. I hate to say it, but I didn't even know that they tapped into our communication. We should be happy that the encryption worked. Which, by the way, you have me to thank for." Benji paused, probably waiting for praise, but Brandt just stood there, arms crossed. "Anyway, in retrospect two agents alone is insane. We need more people. Otherwise it won't work."

The other man sighed. "You might be right, Benji, but we don't have people. None that I can put out there at the moment, and I can't leave."

After briefly being in the field, Brandt was back to being an analyst, especially as there were still lots of loose ends after literally every mission worldwide had come to a stop during the couple of days when the entire IMF had been disavowed, and had cost them quite a bit of personnel.

Now that the secretary was dead, Brandt had never officially taken over that position, but he still ended up doing most of the respective work, at least filling in until someone would come up with a suitable replacement.

In short, everything was chaos right now. And as if that wasn't enough, Director Alan Hunley of the Central Intelligence Agency had made it his personal mission to convince the committee of shutting down the IMF in order to transfer the members of his choice to the CIA. One would expect a little more gratitude after preventing a global nuclear war, but apparently that was asked too much.

"Then we have to observe. No interfering before we've worked out some weakness in their system," Benji said.

"I agree. We have no idea how far this goes," Holt supported. "If Nolan is still on the loose, and if it's true that he took over from Owen Davian, we are talking about a global network of arms dealing and smuggling and assassination and all kinds of things."

"I am aware of that, Agent Holt," Brandt said, reaching for his coffee and letting the other hand slide into his pocket in resignation.

"Maybe you should talk to Ethan about this," Benji carefully suggested. He wasn't sure how much Brandt knew about Shanghai, but most likely it was enough.

"Maybe I should." A phone started ringing. With a hint of despair in his eyes the analyst put down his coffee again and reached for the mobile instead. "That's Hunley again."

"Again?" Benji asked. "We can't get taken over by the CIA. They issue Windows Phones, for Christ's sake. Tell him that." He looked dead serious.

Brandt just sighed as a reply. His finger hovering over the 'accept' button, he dismissed them. "I'm gonna need your reports. Soon."


	12. Caught and Crossed (11)

"Do you know him?" Skye asked curiously when they left the office together, not wanting to discuss the situation at once. That could wait until after breakfast. At least.

"Yeah," Benji said nonchalantly, walking down the corridor.

"I mean, are you... I don't know if you can be friends with that guy, but I was just wondering, since you're on first name terms. Or he is, anyway."

"I know, we never call him William for some reason."

"And I thought his first name was Agent. So you do know him?"

"We met when Ghost Protocol happened," Benji said casually.

"Wasn't he in India with Ethan Hunt?"

"Well, yeah. So was I."

Holt stopped short without warning. "You were there?" She had of course read the reports about the mission that had prevented the IMF from remaining disavowed, and also saved the world in general for that matter, but for some reason she had never made the connection to Benji until now.

Benji had taken a few more steps before he had realised that she wasn't coming along anymore. "I, um..." He wasn't sure how to respond.

Skye smiled at him. "You need to tell me about that," she decided, sounding excited. He smiled back, and they resumed walking. "I was actually on leave back then. That was fun, coming back and finding no evidence of your workplace left."

He laughed lightly. The two of them reached the cafeteria, but just as they wanted to enter, a man stepped out of the door, practically running into Holt.

"Skye!" he said as he recognised her. "Perfect!" He spoke with an Irish accent. Benji didn't like the way he grabbed hold of her shoulders.

"Dec," Skye managed, surprised but not displeased.

"What happened to your face?" He motioned at the steri-strips that still covered part of her cheek and neck.

"Long story," she said curtly.

Declan Gormley rolled his eyes as if he knew it was no use to keep asking. "I've been looking for someone just like you. I'm on my way up to New York and I need a co-pilot." He let go of her shoulders, still having taken no notice of Benji, and ran one hand through his short dark hair, messing it up even more than it already was. "Care to join me?"

"I'm sorry, Dec, I just got back here and I really need something to eat right now."

"Please, you'd really save my skin." His steel-blue eyes gleamed as he smirked at Holt. "I've got scones and coffee in the helicopter."

Skye briefly looked at Benji but was unable to interpret the expression in his eyes.

"And you still owe me one for Barcelona." Declan raised his eyebrows. "Come on."

Skye sighed. Unwillingly, she gave in. "You go ahead, I'll meet you on the roof."

"I knew I could count on you," he grinned, patted her shoulder amicably and was already gone again. She flinched at the pressure on her injury, but he didn't seem to have noticed.

"I'm sorry about this," Skye apologised, turning back to Benji.

"Never mind," he said, but there was disappointment in his voice. "Some... some other time, then?"

Her smile was an immense relief. "Of course. You still owe me a first-hand story about Ghost Protocol."

"I'll keep that in mind," Benji smiled.

A brief silence arose.

"So... see you around," Skye broke it.

"Watch out for yourself," he managed to say.

She simply smiled and nodded, looking into his eyes. Then she turned around and started walking down the corridor, on to new missions.

Missions without him.

Benji looked after her for a couple of seconds, then he sighed and tried to pull himself together. He didn't feel like sitting in the cafeteria on his own. Maybe Brandt had a spare cup of coffee for him. He was just about to go back in direction of the analyst's office when he suddenly heard someone call his name. Not just someone. Skye.

He turned around again and there she was, directly in front of him. Wasn't she supposed to -

He never finished the thought, for she suddenly leaned over, carefully avoiding his cast, rested her hands half on his shoulders and half on his chest and kissed him. Right there, in the middle of HQ. Her lips met his cheek, feeling soft and warm on his skin, and even more delicate than he had imagined.

Yet everything in him seemed to be electrified all of a sudden, and a pleasant shudder went over his back. Benji couldn't have explained what he was feeling. It was as if his body knew something his brain had yet to catch up on.

Before he could do anything it was already over again. He opened his eyes, not recalling when he'd shut them, to see her smile at him.

"Take care, Benji," she said.

With that Skye was gone, leaving him in sweet confusion.


	13. Trial and Error (1)

Author's Note: I've been pretty unsure about posting this story, but I checked my stats for the first time last night and just wanted to say thank you to everyone reading this. It means a lot to me.

I am aware that this is quite long, but then again, maybe you're into that. So welcome to Part Two. I'll probably post a new chapter every day now.

Cheers.

* * *

 **Part Two: Trial and Error**

There was blood on Benji's fingers as he went through the mass of cables, cutting and reconnecting them. Next to him, Jane was leaning against the server, pressing her hand on the bullet wound in her abdomen. His mind was racing. This whole thing wasn't going fast enough. Time was working against them.

"He's been gone too long," he decided, connecting the last two cables, cutting himself again in the process. "Dammit!" He turned to Jane. "Listen. When the power comes back on, these two drives go into this bay, okay?" He didn't wait for her acknowledgement but started down the corridor to the room where he knew Brandt was working on the power. How hard could it be to turn on the lights, for god's sake? Something must have gone wrong. And that just couldn't happen now. The world was at stake.

Reaching the door, he could see Brandt and Wistrom engaged in heavy struggle. Prepared, Benji raised his gun, secured, and within a second he had the perfect aim for Wistrom's head. He pulled the trigger, but instead of Wistrom going down as intended everything around him exploded the very second the bullet exited the gun.

It had been too late.

Benji woke up with a start, bathed in cold sweat. It took him a moment to comprehend that he was in fact in his bedroom in his flat in D.C. He would have thought by now he'd be over the nightmares. The Ghost Protocol mission had been more than four months ago. Still every once in a while the agent returned to India in his dreams, always ending in horrible explosions or the painful deaths of him and his teammates.

Dunn got up with a heavy sigh. _Only a dream, Benji._ He shuffled into the kitchen, changing his shirt on the way. Leaning against the sink he splashed some cold water in his face and poured himself a glass. He just wanted to get back to try and have some sleep, when there was a knock on the door. He stopped short, standing in the middle of the room for a moment, wondering if he had just imagined. Eventually, he picked up his gun and opened the door.

Nothing.

Strange, Benji thought, and was about to put it down to post-nightmare imagination when he noticed something from the corner of his eye. Something was different, out of place.

He looked down. There it was, practically jumping into his face. A postcard was lying on the doormat. Benji stepped closer. It showed a picturesque beach of white sand lacing a turquoise sea, a couple of palm trees scattered tastefully along the shore. Diagonally written over the cloudless sky, it read _We wish you a nice holiday!_

Benji picked up the card and turned it over. A code was on the back. A code just waiting to be scanned. A code holding his next mission.

Benji sighed. He tried to convince himself that it was because all this secrecy was a bit pretentious, but deep down he knew that it was a sigh of relief. He finally closed the door. A feeling of childlike excitement and anticipation filled him as he went to get his computer.

"Good morning, Agent Dunn," the familiar voice sounded, and the addressee couldn't suppress a smirk. "The briefcase you tagged on your last mission in Toronto has resurfaced."

The nightmare was forgotten.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Why did they even send you?" Agent Holt shouted. "What is this, your first mission?"

"Actually it's my-" Agent Crover dared to say, but crouched even more over the computer as his senior agent spoke up again.

"Let me get this right, what you're saying is you not only can't get into the system from here, which I could – in some way – even accept because I halfway expected it," she paced the hotel room, "but no, even if I get you the passwords you can't hack in?"

Crover opened his mouth, but didn't get a chance.

"I'm not even sure if that could still be called 'hacking in'. And they're telling me you're an IT specialist!"

"Technically-"

"Like _hell_ you are!" Holt shouted. "You keep screwing up, so far I've been more than patient with you, but you didn't even deem it necessary to tell me in advance that my plan will, in fact, _not_ work because you can't operate a laptop." By now, Crover had decided to simply let her rage. "Instead you let us get this far – I guess I should be grateful that you told me now, and not when I'm going in, because _then_ we would have been in a tight spot, I can tell you that."

"Uh," Crover tried to interrupt, as a man who had silently entered the hotel room stepped unnoticed behind Holt. Behind her back, he grinned at Crover and motioned him to be quiet.

"No, just shut up, Crover, I am really, _really_ mad right now."

"I just-" Actually, he recognised this guy, even though it had been a while. He knew him from back at HQ.

"Who even put you in the field?!" She stopped short in the middle of the apartment, glaring at the young American.

"Agent Holt-"

"Don't answer that, I don't want to know."

"Agent Holt," another voice sounded behind her, calm and smiling.

Acting on instinct, she turned around sharply, immediately got the unknown by the wrist, and twisted his arm. Full of rage, she leaned all of her weight against him and shoved him the couple of steps against the nearest wall.

"Why is it we always have to meet like that?" the man gasped, his accent British.

"Benji?" Holt sounded disbelieving. Then she let go, more carefully than the last time this had happened, and Benji turned around, stretching his arm a bit, smirking.

"It's good to see you, too," he smiled.

Holt's face lit up considerably when she smiled. "I mean, I requested back-up, but I didn't know that you were going to -"

"You requested back-up?" Crover spoke up from his corner.

"It amazes me that you are surprised at this." Her voice was ice. It was obvious that she was done talking to Crover.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"No, look, this is all wrong." Benji shook his head, as he was typing rapidly, changing bits and pieces throughout the entire programme. He briefly paused to bite off a chunk of the Mars bar he had dug out of the mini bar, then put it back on the table next to a big pair of glasses and resumed typing. "How did you come up with this, none of it makes sense." Still, his voice was calm, no accusation detectable. He kind of liked Crover, even though he wasn't sure what had possessed the younger man to pursue the line of field agent work. But Benji refrained from asking, since he could imagine a lot of people wondering the same about himself. "What happened?" he asked Crover instead, without taking his eyes from the screen. "You used to be quite good back in D.C., didn't you?"

"I guess I just don't work well in the field. Besides, she hates me, and there's nothing I can do about that."

"How did you manage that?" Benji looked up after all and lowered his voice a bit. "I know she's not exactly the most sociable person when you meet her for the first time, but what did you do? This can't just be basic messing up."

Crover started shifting in his seat. "I sort of... lost her bag."

Benji swallowed the last bit of Mars bar. "You what?"

"With her clothes and stuff. Some of the equipment. That was about the final straw."

The Brit couldn't help laughing at that. "You really know how to get around in the field."

"What's so funny?" Holt came back out of the bathroom, now wearing the white blouse and dark red waistcoat over her black trousers that made her look like part of the hotel personnel. Her hair was put up in an orderly fashion. Her name plate identified her as Linda Karlson. She sat down between them at the computer.

"I fixed it," Benji simply said, triumphantly pressing 'enter' for one final time. He picked up the glasses and turned to Skye. Without asking, he carefully put them on for her. His fingertips brushed her temples.

Holt could have sworn it was suddenly warmer in the room. The skin in her face tingled. The sensation came so unexpected that she needed a second before she could focus on the picture that Benji had conjured up on the screen.

The tiny camera was now transmitting, showing Holt's point of view.

"We have eyes," Benji declared, sounding as if with that the mission was already accomplished.


	14. Trial and Error (2)

"Must be weird," Benji said when he and Skye left the hotel room together. He, too, had changed into the hotel staff's uniform. "Being so close to home on a mission."

"I got used to it. They sent me here a couple of times over the years, if only because I know the language." They entered the staircase and she tucked the glasses onto her collar, when she suddenly realised what they were talking about. "Wait a second, how do you know I'm from here?"

Benji smiled shyly and looked straight ahead. "They had me research everything remotely connected to Nolan while I was housebound. Before you ask: nothing. They're absolutely waterproof as an Online Marketing Management company, and no one's as much as even heard of Richard Ferner. Or Nolan for that matter." He saw the shadow pass over her face, and didn't know what to make of it, so he just continued. "But, yeah, I may have seen your file." Quickly, to fill the looming awkward silence, he added, "So what have you been up to the last couple of weeks?" Her skin was slightly tanned. He wondered where she'd been.

"I've been recruiting. Brandt said it, we are short of agents."

"So you didn't quit after all."

The had reached their floor and proceeded down the hallway.

"Someone told me I shouldn't." She smiled at him for a second. "I'm sorry I didn't stop by, by the way. But I've hardly been in D.C."

It was a lame excuse. She could have said hi for five minutes when she had been in town for a day waiting for re-assignment. She could have called. She could have e-mailed. But at least it wasn't completely a lie. Even if it wasn't the whole reason for staying away either.

"How's your arm?" she asked, before he could comment on any of it.

"Splendid," he grinned, flexing his left arm for proof, and immediately feeling stupid doing it.

"I wasn't sure they would already let you out when I asked for you as back-up."

"You asked for me?" Something mischievous flashed over Benji's face when he tried hard to suppress a grin.

He couldn't see her face when Skye quickly opened a door to her right. Contrary to the actual hotel rooms it didn't have a number, but read _'Kun for medlemmer'_ , which Benji assumed to mean something along the lines of 'Staff only'. He found himself in a storage room. The walls lined with shelves full of white towels and bedsheets.

"I..." She rolled one of the carts that the chambermaids used for taking fresh laundry to the guests' rooms away from the wall, and Benji, using it as a desk, set up the laptop. "Well, I thought we're in this together, and it can't get any worse than last time, right?" She realised that she didn't know what she was saying, and quickly tried to talk over it. "Besides, I needed a decent technician."

This time, Benji allowed himself to smile. "So Crover lost your bag, huh?"

Skye rolled her eyes. "I'm fed up with that guy, I can tell you. I know we're understaffed, but rushing people through field training is not the answer. One day he'll blow up his own head because he took one of these explosive chewing gums for real."

Benji laughed at the seriousness of her comment. Surprised at his reaction, she looked at him. He met her gaze. The questioning look gave way to a smile. Not for the first time he realised that he really liked her smile.

" _You know that I can hear you, right?_ " Crover said over the comm.

Skye simply ignored him while Benji snickered quietly to himself, bending over the screen.

It had taken him close to no time to access the hotel's security cameras. And contrary to Crover he had of course not needed Holt to get him the passwords. It now showed two perspectives of the corridor outside their hiding place, the staircase, and the elevator.

"That's Atwood's room," Holt said, and pointed. "Now all we have to do is wait for him to leave."

"Who is that guy?" Dunn leaned against the shelf behind him to get more comfortable.

"Atwood?"

"Yeah, what do we know about him?"

"Close to nothing. That's the weird thing. Marcus Atwood, originally from Liverpool, but works as a pharmacist in Hamburg, Germany. Not married, no kids. Has never got as much as a speeding ticket. And now the signal from the briefcase you tagged in Toronto suddenly appears in his hotel room in Randers. I don't understand any of this, to be honest."

"Do you think they found the bug and just pinned it on someone random?"

"Could be." She got next to him and moved a couple of towels away to have a seat. "I'd be more interested in how they managed to keep it from transmitting a signal until a couple of days ago."

"Maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe the briefcase was close to something that scrambled the transmission. Like radiation, for instance." He shrugged, and then thought of something else. "Skye, don't you think that if they found the bug they would know we'd trace it and use that against us?"

"Of course they would."

"And you just wanna go in there?"

"Why not?"

"Oh, I don't know, because it could be a trap? I just thought of what happened the last time we got in with that crowd."

She looked at him. "Once Atwood is out, that room is empty. All I do is trace the signal and see what this is all about. We're in contact all the time and if something happens you're literally two rooms away."

Benji still looked doubtful.

"And if all else fails us, we still got Captain America up there."

" _You're too kind, Agent Holt,_ " Crover said.

Skye smiled.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"All right, I know about French, how about German?" Benji asked.

"Yes."

"Spanish?"

"Well enough."

"Mh... Italian?"

"Fluent. Love that one."

"Russian?"

"My accent could use some work, but yes."

"Got you there."

"I'm one up on you in Danish, so we're even."

"Okay, what about Greek?"

"See, now you got me."

"I knew there was one."

"How's your Japanese?"

"Ouh."

"Or how about Swedish?"

"Okay, you win."

Skye and Benji were sitting on the floor, leaning against the laundry shelves. The laptop was next to him, and they always kept half an eye on the door they needed to open. But after an hour, things were getting weary. Somehow they had started talking about languages and were battling each other who knew more.

Crover meanwhile was playing Solitaire on his computer and was only half-listening to the voices of the other two agents in his ear.

"What's the T stand for?" Benji suddenly asked.

"Excuse me?"

"Your middle name. Skye T. Holt. What's it stand for?"

Her lips parted slightly as if she couldn't believe that he'd actually just asked that. At the same time, she looked as if she was about to burst out laughing.

/\/\/\

" _What's yours for?" Connor asked._

" _Sorry?"_

" _Your initial. Skye T. Sounds cool."_

 _Skye told him._

 _He stared a bit. "Say that again."_

 _Skye repeated it, already grinning._

" _Yeah, there's no way I can ever pronounce that. I'll stick to Skye T."_

" _What's yours then?"_

" _Maxwell," he huffed._

" _What's wrong with Maxwell?"_

" _I don't know. CMM kind of sounds like an alternative cable network."_

/\/\/\

The flashback came and went within a second. Skye blinked and was back in reality. "You didn't just hack into whatever data base to find out?"

"I thought I'd rather ask you." Benji's eyes darted to the ground but his head remained turned to her, leaned against the shelf.

For a while neither of them said anything.

"Skye..." Benji began again. Slowly he moved his hand so that it just barely touched the side of hers. She didn't do anything about it. He looked back up. "I've been wondering..." Benji didn't know how to continue. Somehow all of this had sounded much less awkward in his head. He looked back down at their hands between them. Fascinated he watched his left hand slide onto her right. As if it wasn't even part of him but instead had a will of its own. She still did not do anything to prevent it. Their eyes locked.

Crover felt weird about the sudden silence in the comm. By now he was certain they had forgotten about him.

Skye wasn't sure what was happening. All she was aware of was Benji's hand on hers, and the way he said her name, and the way he looked at her. She didn't know if she was moving towards him or the other way around, but at some point she just closed her eyes.

In the exact same moment, the door opened. They flung apart at the surprised "Whow," of the chamber maid; Holt ripped her hand away and Dunn hurried to push the laptop out of sight.

The young woman who had walked in on them recovered quickly and started chuckling. She picked up a stack of fresh towels and left again, saying something Benji did not understand but that caused Skye's cheeks to flush pink. The snap of the door closing left them in silence.

Benji was about to break it when all discomfort suddenly vanished from Holt's face. She was looking past him, and when he followed her gaze he saw Atwood just lock his room from the outside on the computer screen.

"I'm going in," Holt said and got up. "Initiate transmission," she added, pulling the pair of glasses from her collar and waving it at the techie.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Skye blocked out everything that had just happened when she unlocked Atwood's room. Not that anything had happened anyway. She left the cart in the middle of the room and checked the bathroom to make sure she was alone, then she got to work. The room didn't look very out of the ordinary, a small hotel room, just like their own. No briefcase to be seen, only a big brown leather suitcase on the floor next to the bed. The small table at the window was full of papers. Quickly she rummaged through them, but found nothing overly remarkable amidst the flyers and advertisements.

On Crover's computer screen, the documents popped up once they had been captured by the camera in Holt's glasses.

She placed a few bugs for further monitoring, then checked the narrow wardrobe. Some shirts were dangling on hangers, otherwise it was empty.

There was only one option left. Holt went over to the bed and opened the leather suitcase. And immediately slammed it shut again.

" _Geez!"_ Benji exclaimed over the comm, watching from the closet. _"That's new."_

From Crover there was nothing but a muffled curse followed by a strange noise.

"Crover, you okay?" Holt asked over her beating heart. Not so much because she was scared, she just had not expected this. Carefully she got closer to the suitcase again.

" _I'm fine_ , _"_ the American said, groaning as if he was getting up.

"Did you just fall off your chair?"

" _I was – startled. I hate these_ , _"_ he murmured, annoyed with himself.

Benji suppressed a grin.

Agent Holt got hold of the suitcase's lid again, opening it way more slowly than the first time. A huge brownish snake was lying in it, getting in motion now that it had been disturbed. The dark spots on its scaly skin gleamed, catching the light.

" _Why did it have to be snakes?"_ Benji finally allowed himself to quote, smirking to himself in the storage room.

"Tell me about it," Holt said absent-mindedly, bending down and letting her hands hover over the large animal, trying to find the best way to get hold of it.

Crover saw her hands appearing in her field of vision. _"You're not gonna touch it, are you?"_

"You're two floors away. Relax, Crover," she said, keeping her attention with the snake and suppressing the urge to tell him to grow the hell up. "It's a python. It's not even poisonous. It's just... big."

It wasn't even that big. Skye guessed its length to be about two to three metres, which was still small for a python. Still she wasn't too comfortable with the situation herself, but now things were as they were and she couldn't help that.

" _I'll come over and help you,"_ Benji announced.

"No, I need you to watch the corridor. I got this." With that the woman picked up the snake with both hands and quickly put it down on the bed where she could keep an eye on it. It was surprisingly heavy, hissed and squirmed slightly at being carried like this, and once on the bed it curled into a ball, which looked like a horrible contortion.

" _Oh god,"_ could be heard from Crover.

"If you have to throw up, do it in the bathroom," Holt said, but was already focusing on the suitcase again. Skilfully, she started tracing the seams. Her fingers moved along the sides and bottom with astonishing routine – and then they hit a gap. The agent had to use some force, but then the fake flooring came loose. "Jackpot."

" _Well, that's a mess..."_

It was. Files and all kinds of papers were loosely scattered over the leather, paper clips were lying like crumbles between everything. Some of it was folded, some of it wrinkled. Some of the pages had two rips on the left side, as if they had been punched and neatly stowed away only to be ripped out of their folders later on.

Holt started going through the mass, skimming headlines, paragraphs and signatures.

"Are you getting this?" she asked.

" _Yes, receiving_ , _"_ Crover acknowledged, while the programme on his computer was already digitalising everything.

Skye pushed a small stack of files away and put them on the floor, further going through the documents. A dark blue booklet appeared between the sheets. It was a passport. She took it, when something stirred to her right. She turned her head only to find herself face to face with the snake. It had slithered up from the foot of the bed and now its head was hovering in the air hardly three inches from her nose.

She managed to swallow every reaction apart from a sharp intake of breath. Crover cursed again, but she ignored him.

" _Skye, you're about to get company! He's coming back,"_ Benji suddenly said.

"Acknowledged," she replied curtly and began sorting, or rather de-sorting the files into the suitcase again.

She put the double flooring back in place and was already at the trolley holding the towels and bedsheets, when Crover said, _"The snake!"_

" _He's almost on our floor,"_ Benji reported.

Holt rushed back to the bed and, this time without hesitating, tossed the snake back into its suitcase, prompting a displeased hissing noise. It was muffled when the agent slammed the lid shut, gracefully picked up a couple of white towels from the stack and went into the bathroom.

" _He's going in."_

The door opened. Holt heard someone enter. She went outside, carrying the used towels, completely in her role as a chambermaid. Smiling shyly, she started to apologise about possible inconveniences in Danish, promising that she would be gone again in a minute.

Atwood was a curious man, tufted reddish brown hair fell into his face. Not unlike Crover, he appeared to be too tall for his own good, constantly fidgeting around, uncomfortable in his slightly baggy clothes. He replied curtly, in English, and proceeded to kick her out of his room rather rudely.

While two floors up Crover's attention was fixed on the documents on his screen, Benji was glad that he was alone. That way no one could see the dreamy expression that had stolen on his face while listening to her, although he didn't understand anything.


	15. Trial and Error (3)

"Most of it are freight papers of some sort," Crover said, when Benji entered their room. Thick raindrops were crashing against the windows. Skye was already there, next to Crover on the sofa, eyes fixed on the laptop. "But weird ones. Look, this one and this one for example. Here it's about drugs, and suddenly the cargo is about shoes. And the money increased. They make it look legal, just like that." His eyes skimmed further down. "Managed by Kennedy Ltd."

"This is good," Holt said, relieving the American of the computer and motioned Benji to sit down on her other side so that all of them could see. "This is very good. Look, everything went over Kennedy Ltd. The merchandise was sold worldwide. Look at this, Dubai, New York, Shanghai, San Francisco, but the paperwork is all Toronto."

"Wow," said Crover, watching the screen as Holt continued scrolling through the documents. "That's a lot of cocaine."

"And a lot of weapons," Holt added.

"So I guess we can trash the idea about Atwood being someone random. He's definitely one of them," Benji said.

"Definitely," Skye agreed. "Hey, look, they even sell snakes." She laughed humourlessly and Crover mumbled something incomprehensible. "I'm sorry," she said, and Benji noticed Crover's surprise at the apology. "I hate the guy. It's like there's nothing he does not do."

"He's good at hiding names," Benji observed. "It only ever lists the company."

"And also places," Skye said.

"What do you mean?"

"It's just a feeling... but there has to be a sort of source. Call it headquarters if you will. It's obviously not Toronto anymore, but Nolan has to be somewhere _,_ sitting all of this out while others do the dirty work for him, and I was hoping that we could find him through this."

"Well, we got about fifty pages, I estimate," Crover said. "And this skimming won't get us anywhere."

"You're right," Skye said. "We'll have to analyse these."

Benji sighed internally at the sight of tons of small print on some of the documents, but he knew this was important.

"I'll synchronise this to all of the computers and send it to HQ," Benji decided. "Copies never hurt."

"Right," Holt said, passing him the laptop. "It's a shame we didn't get all of them," she said, and got up. "I'll have to go in again." She unbuttoned the red waistcoat so that it hung loosely over the white blouse. "But somehow I don't think he'll leave the room again very soon. We might have to stage a fire alarm."

Benji looked up from the screen. "You think he got suspicious?"

"Not in terms of spies maybe, but I guess he never thought about people other than him entering a room that contains a not exactly well hidden snake and a bunch of top secret documents." She shrugged. "I don't know what to make of all this." With a sigh she let herself fall on the bed.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Half an hour later they still all sat crouched over their laptops, reading through their share of papers.

Benji had put up an IMF issued air mattress on the floor to make a bed for him, and for some reason Skye's thoughts kept coming back to his joyful expression when it had unfolded by itself within seconds. She wasn't sure if this was because he was still relatively new to the field and the respective use of gadgets, or if that was just his way.

 _Focus, Holt,_ she told herself.

But her eyes darted back across the room where Benji was sitting. There was a sinew showing on his neck when he tilted his head like he was doing now. His hair had grown since she'd last seen him.

Something in her ribcage tingled. She forced herself to look back at the monitor. "This one name keeps coming up," she said when she saw it for the sixth time. "Caulfield Investments."

"Yeah, they seem to have too much money," said Crover, who had already seen the name as well. "They're always mentioned when it comes to financing things."

"I'm already on it, and you won't believe this," Benji said, drawing Holt's expectant look on him. "The head of the firm is called Kirsten Caulfield. And she's apparently made huge winnings by investing into a small enterprise called Kennedy Ltd."

Holt raised her eyebrows. "No shit?"

"No shit. And funnily enough one of her mansions is just south of Randers, Denmark." Benji exchanged a glance with her.

"That's our connection," she said, and although her voice was calm Benji felt her excitement. "That's why Atwood is here."

"You think he's here to bring her the documents? Like, for safe-keeping?" Crover said.

"That's at least a possibility."

"Then what I don't get," the American continued, "is why they even keep them. Why don't they just burn the papers or something?"

Benji found he hadn't even thought of that.

"Information of that value are eyes only, that's a safe guess. So maybe those were the only copy," Skye thought aloud. "Maybe they want to evaluate how much damage it can actually do and need an expert for that. Maybe they need them to threaten people. To show them that if they decide to talk, their names will be the only ones that can be traced."

That made sense to Crover.

"And maybe this Kirsten person is the one assigned to send out the threatening notes," she continued. "Or she's the one being threatened. Or Atwood is just going to receive some cash from her. Or maybe all of this would make sense if I had gotten all of the papers. We don't know _anything._ " Skye sounded increasingly exasperated. "I should have just knocked him out and taken the whole damn suitcase. I could have left the snake to strangle him and no one would have noticed."

Benji kind of wanted to cheer her up. He had a feeling she wasn't accustomed to missions dragging on like this. "Hey, we're getting there. He has to leave his room at some point. And until then we could pay Caulfield a visit."

"Right." Holt sighed and leaned back against the wall. "Tell me more about her."

Crover, who had run a simple online search on her, whistled through his teeth. "She's hot."

Skye emitted a sound that made Benji understand why the Danish lovingly said their own language sounded like having a sore throat. Crover shrank a couple of inches.

Benji decided to take over. "Kirsten Caulfield, American, 29. Graduated from the University of Zürich with a degree in economics. Discovered the world of the stock market," the Brit read from the profile he'd dug up. "Recently widowed after only five months of marriage when her husband died of a heart attack, leaving her his mansions and his collection of vintage cars, apparently. Bunch of charities going on, and her investment firm. Other than that she just seems to be... rich." They all fell silent. "But give me a minute and I'll get you her bank account actions, her stock market shares, and access to her security systems," he offered.

Agent Holt slid down into a lying position, shoving the laptop aside and stared at the ceiling with her arms behind her head.

Agent Dunn couldn't help looking at her as she did, feeling a bit helpless because he hadn't found more.

Agent Crover kept scrolling through the pictures of Kirsten Caulfield, a pretty young lady, who happened to be a millionaire and also currently without a relationship, at least according to Google.

"Maybe we should just call it a day and get dinner," Skye said to the ceiling. 'Calling it a day' wasn't exactly a common concept at IMF, but for her taste this mission was lacking one thing, and that was progress. "I need to get out of here." She sat up. "I know a pretty nice place to eat not far from here. Nothing too fancy."

The sound of that made Benji prick up his ears. And not only because of the perspective of food.

"Someone has to stay here and watch Atwood's room," Crover pointed out.

She sighed again. "Or we could get room service."

"You guys can go," he said.

Benji looked at him with genuine surprise.

"Let's be honest, most likely he won't leave his room any time soon, and if he does I guess I'll just have to cope with the snake."

Benji could have hugged him.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"We're not being professional," Skye pointed out when they left the hotel. "If Atwood does leave, there is no way in hell Crover will get past the snake."

"Don't think about it for a minute," Benji said, holding the door for her. He received one of her questioning looks. "It's not like we're out of the world." He waved his mobile at her and pocketed it again. "Just take your mind off things. You're in a nice city about to get some nice dinner, and while it admittedly could be warmer, at least it's stopped raining."

She chuckled.

"What?" he asked, following her through the streets.

"You're right." She could hardly tell him that she liked his accent. She tried to think of a way to keep him talking.

The Brit glanced at her sidewise, not knowing what to make of that. The cut on her face hadn't even left a scar. He wondered about her shoulder.

"You do know that you still have to tell me the Benji Dunn story of Ghost Protocol, right?"

 _The Benji Dunn story._ Had she actually said that?

Benji just laughed. "Right. Well, actually it all started with me breaking Ethan Hunt out of prison..."


	16. Trial and Error (4)

Benji had taken over watching Atwood while the others got some sleep. Not that there was much to watch, the bugs didn't catch anything and the corridors were quiet, so his thoughts started drifting. He was sitting on his surprisingly comfortable air mattress, computer on his lap, and tried to figure out how he had managed to get through all these weeks without seeing Skye Holt.

At first he had stared at her file for hours on end. Eventually he'd started digging up old reports from earlier missions she'd been part of, at least those that were not classified. But at the latest when he had caught himself reading the file of a certain disavowed pyro-technician by the name of Connor Mathison he had stopped, suddenly feeling horrible about what he was doing. Stalking her past like this instead of simply calling her, maybe follow Jane's advice and ask her to have a cup of coffee with him, like a sane person would.

After that he had convinced himself that there was nothing to obsess about. They had been through quite something, granted, but it had been a grand total of three days they had spent together. And that kiss? Well. That kiss. His thoughts kept coming back to that. It had just been a second's worth of lips on cheek, and yet it had the effect that he couldn't get Skye out of his head anymore.

He had eventually opted to talk to Jane Carter because he had to talk about it with _some_ one, and Jane, being a woman, seemed likely to help him gain a few insights.

"Do you know Skye Holt?" Benji had asked.

"Eleonara," Jane had said knowingly.

"Hm?"

But Jane had failed to elaborate. "Knowing her would be said too much. I don't remember the last time we spoke. But I've heard about her. She's done some good work."

"I just came back from a mission with her."

"How'd it go?" Jane had wanted to know.

Benji hadn't been in the mood for talking about his field experiences. "Jane, can you explain something to me?"

"I can try."

"I don't really understand her," Benji had begun, and described roughly what had happened, without going into much detail.

"The thing is, all the time she was so," he hadn't wanted to say anything that sounded too negative, "distant, and then we talked and after that she was suddenly so..."

"So?"

"Lovely," Benji had said quietly.

Jane had smiled one of her rare smiles. "You're a good listener."

"I'm just not sure what happened there. And then I thought we'd, maybe, get to know each other a bit more, you know, over breakfast, but then she had to leave all of a sudden. And then she sort of kissed me and I haven't seen her since."

"What do you mean when you say sort of?"

"Like, on the cheek?" Benji had sighed dramatically. "What does that mean, Jane?"

Again, Carter had just smiled. "It's strange how you get to bond with people in this business sometimes."

"Not helpful."

Jane had chuckled. "I don't know. Maybe she didn't want to leave just like that. To be honest, I think you should just ask. Talk to her."

"Just like that?"

"Yeah. Maybe go out for some coffee. Nothing too fancy."

"You mean like a date?"

Jane had shrugged.

Benji had looked at her blankly. "That's so... not subtle."

In the end, the longer he had been sitting at HQ, growing a bit sour about the fact that he had finally been in the field only to go back to what he had been doing before because of a stupid broken arm, the more he had told himself that it had meant nothing after all. He'd said it himself, they had been through some stuff together, and she had probably been worried about him, so if you looked at it that way it seemed almost reasonable to kiss him goodbye. That did not give him the right to obsess about her like this.

And over the weeks he had started to believe all that.

But the moment Benji had seen her again he had once more taken up wondering whether there might be... something. After all she had asked specifically for him. She had wanted him to come here. And he had spent the best stake-out of his life with her.

As if everything else wasn't enough, thinking about that was a mistake. Now he could forget about peace of mind completely. Sitting in that closet with her – was it just him or had they almost kissed? While he felt like an idiot, at the same time he was strangely happy.

On the sofa, Crover was snoring.

With a silent sigh, Benji left the laptop behind and quietly opened the door that led to the small balcony. He felt like fresh air. Hopefully that would clear his head.

The night was cool, a star or two visible between dark blue clouds. It still smelled of rain. He shivered slightly when his bare feet touched the sleek cold ground, but decided to ignore it, drawing the door almost closed behind him. Every once in a while a car would drive by below him, but it was quiet this time of night in Randers. Even all of the windows of the buildings around him were dark. He wasn't used to small towns any more.

He really should just ask her. About that kiss.

Then again, maybe she just saw them as colleagues. Possibly even friends. Talking to her seemed so easy and the most difficult thing at the same time. Every time he made her smile it made him feel like he had just managed to hack into the Pentagon. And the World Bank. On the same day. Wearing a mask.

Exasperatedly Benji rubbed his face. This was getting ridiculous. How was he supposed to go through with this mission if thinking about her kept him awake all night? After all, she was way out of his league. What was he thinking. As if Skye would – with him – yeah, sure.

But she _had_ kissed him. Once. Almost twice.

But she hadn't called either. It didn't seem as if six weeks of radio silence between the two of them had bothered her in any way.

Fresh air apparently only made his thoughts go round in circles. He sighed heavily.

"Aren't you cold?"

Benji spun around.

"Here." Skye handed him his jacket, huddling herself in her own. Still short of clothes, she was wearing the soft black trousers of the hotel uniform and a light tank top under her coat.

"I, um," Benji said smartly and put on his jacket, which did feel nice against the cold. "Thanks."

He was sure he was staring at her blankly but there was nothing he could do.

"Nothing going on?"

Still speechless, he shook his head, although he managed to smile a bit.

"Crover's snoring is keeping me awake. I heard you get up and when you didn't come back I thought I'd see what you're up to."

She sounded as if she was apologising. Benji's stomach flipped strangely when he realised that she'd been awake just a couple of feet next to him the entire time. He noticed that she looked at him in this way he couldn't place.

"Do you want to be alone?"

Surprised, he raised his eyebrows. "No," he said, and hoped half a second later that that had not been the wrong thing to say.

"You just look so thoughtful, I don't want to interrupt."

"You're not," Benji said so quietly that he wasn't sure if she had even heard it.

She stepped next to him and watched a car go by. "It is a bit weird, you know," she said. "Being so close to home. I mean, my family lives just an hour from here." She shrugged. "Makes you wonder."

"Do you miss them?" It was something Benji had always wanted to ask someone, on some mission, but it had never seemed right.

"Sometimes." Skye leaned against the balcony rail.

/\/\/\

 _Skye leaned against the ship's railing._

" _What's your greatest fear?" Connor asked, scanning the horizon line where the Atlantic met the sky._

" _Going straight for the deep questions," Skye smiled._

" _We're partners now, I should know these things." Connor shrugged and grinned. "I'll tell you mine, too."_

 _Skye thought for a bit, looking down the outer hull of the ship into the dark blue depth beneath them, and tugged her wool cap in place. "Death is scary, I suppose..." she started._

" _Boring," Connor said._

" _Exactly," Skye chuckled. "I guess my greatest fear is failing to protect someone."_

 _Connor nodded thoughtfully. "That's noble."_

" _Your turn."_

" _Giant squids," he said without hesitating._

 _Skye's stare was so intense that he turned his head and met her eyes._

" _Are you kidding me?"_

 _He turned his palms upwards in seemingly serious defence. "What, I saw this documentary. These things kill fucking whales-" He was cut off and started laughing when she shoved him._

" _You're so full of shit," Skye said smiling._

/\/\/\

Benji could see that her thoughts trailed off and decided to leave it there. "I didn't mean to pry."

"No, it's all right. I just had to think of something," she said. "What about your family? Do you miss them?"

"Yeah. I don't... overly keep in touch with them."

"Why not?"

"I hate lying to them. I mean, I'm hardly home and they don't even know what I do for a living."

"I'm sure they think you're some sort of high-flying IT expert." She looked close to smiling. Her eyes had a sort of gleam in them.

"Well... yes."

"And that's what you are."

"That's not what I mean."

"I know. My folks think I'm a secretary at Consolidated Insurance. That used to be technically true, but now." She shrugged again. "I used to work in Extractions," she added as an explanation.

"I know," Benji said, before he could stop himself.

"Right." There was a bit of silence. "It's a bit unfair, don't you think?" Suddenly she was smiling at him. Win.

"What do you mean?"

"You've seen my file, so potentially you know where I'm from, you know my birthday, my security clearances, you name it. The only thing you don't seem to know is my middle name." She was still smiling. "Compared to that I don't know anything about you."

Benji laughed for a second. "Well, what do you want to know?"

"Why did you transfer to the field?"

He didn't bother hiding his surprise at the question.

"Don't get me wrong, but you were amazing as a technician from what I've heard. Not that you're that bad out here, but what made you quit that?"

Benji met her eyes. He really wanted to tell her. About Shanghai. About how Ethan Hunt had called him, needing his help in finding Julia. The rush of excitement it had given him, the feeling of importance in the face of being trusted when everybody else had turned their backs on Ethan. He really wanted to.

"One day I realised that I've been working for a secret organisation for ten years and basically sat in a basement the entire time. I just thought there has to be more out there." Skye looked at him somewhat curiously. "That, and I've always wanted to wear a mask."

Skye laughed. She actually laughed, lightly and quietly, but it let his heart pick up the pace and he couldn't help smiling at her.

They were quiet for a minute, when she suddenly said, "It's Trygve."

"Sorry?"

"My middle name. Trygve. My grandma picked it. She wanted something really Danish, but my parents had already settled on Skye. So she got to choose the second name as a compromise."

"That sounds nice."

"You think so? I used to hate it. It's more of a boys' name, actually."

Benji chuckled and made a mental note to brush up on his Danish. "What does it mean?"

He couldn't be sure in the light, but Benji thought he'd seen her roll her eyes. "It means trustworthy."

"Now that fits."

Again she looked at him with this questioning glance. As if she couldn't figure him out, just like he was confused about her. Like she was the type for that.

No, it was more as if she wasn't used to being listened to. But Benji couldn't come up with a single reason for not listening to her. Maybe it was the other way around. That she wasn't used to telling people things and therefore couldn't judge reactions.

Or maybe he was just being weird without noticing.

"It's pretty," he said, trying to salvage it. "Your name. I like it." Too much. Way too much.

That smile. "Tak."

Benji understood that much. So... not too much after all? "Skye?"

She turned her head towards him and a bit of her hair fell in her face. She brushed it out of the way.

No. He couldn't just ask. Whatever this was that made them battle about languages and have conversations in the middle of the night, he liked it, and he didn't want to destroy it by going on and on about some kiss from six weeks ago that most likely didn't have any meaning whatsoever.

"We should get back inside, it's freezing."

"Yeah," Skye agreed.

Crover was still snoring, undisturbed by their coming and going.

They got out of their jackets and back into bed, and Benji felt even more awake than before.

"Good night," she whispered to his left.

"Good night, Skye."

When he did fall asleep, after waking Crover to take over watching, it was the first time in quite a while that he did not have nightmares.


	17. Trial and Error (5)

The door was slammed shut so loudly that it did not only wake up Agents Dunn and Holt, but possibly also everyone else sleeping on that floor of the hotel. Skye sat up straight, right hand already feeling for the gun on the bedside table, sending a few sheets of paper sailing to the ground. Meanwhile Benji tried to get deeper into his sleeping bag.

"Great, you're awake," Crover said when he stormed into the room, out of breath.

"Whatimesit?" Benji murmured into his pillow.

Holt put the gun down and checked her watch. It was ten past seven. Twenty minutes, and her alarm would have sounded. Still, "Crover - what the fuck?"

"Atwood just left the hotel!"

"What?" Within a second she was awake and standing. Even Benji sat up on his mattress.

"I went down because I wanted to get coffee and when I passed the reception, he was just checking out. So I followed him -"

"You did?" she asked disbelievingly.

"Yeah." He looked worried. "Was that wrong?"

"No, just – doesn't matter, you followed him?" she picked up again.

"It didn't help much anyway, he got in a car and I lost him."

Holt sighed, as if she had known there was a catch all along. "Can we still make it?"

"What?"

"Catch up."

Crover shook his head. "That's too much of a head start."

Skye cursed under her breath. "All right," she then said. "What kind of car? Licence plate, brand, colour, anything."

"Uh... a cab, I think."

She turned to Benji. "We can still track him. He took the suitcase, I presume, so we need that signal, now."

"I'm on it." Benji reached for the laptop next to his pitched up camp and was already typing.

"I don't understand this," she said, more to herself. "He can't have gotten suspicious just because a chambermaid was in his room."

"Maybe the snake told him," Benji made a poor attempt. "Maybe he found one of the bugs?" he suggested more seriously.

"We would have heard that." Holt shook her head and started pacing. On passing Crover, she stopped. "Do you remember _anything_ about the car?"

"No," Crover admitted.

"About Atwood? Was there anything unusual? Was he in a hurry? Was someone waiting for him?"

"I don't... know."

"You left your post," she stated thoughtfully. "You stopped watching the hallway."

If there was any way around it, Crover was unaware of it. "Yes," he said simply, for any attempt of betting more syllables on an explanation or an apology got stuck in his throat.

Holt stayed eerily calm. She turned away from him and took a deep breath. Then she looked at him again. "Crover, I kind of feel like sending you back to D.C. on the next plane. But I want you to stay put here. Contact HQ about this. I want you to gather all intel from what little we've recovered of the documents. It should be enough to get some of the smaller guys that work for Nolan. Compare them to everything we have about Owen Davian. See if the combination of the two cases sheds some light. Get a team of analysts ready back home and try to make some sense of all of this."

The only thing that surprised him more than not being sent back to D.C. was that she hadn't bashed his head in. "Yes, ma'am."

She nodded approvingly. "And don't call me ma'am."

"Yes – Agent Holt." He skulked off to his laptop.

Benji, who had involuntarily witnessed all of this, quickly looked down at the screen again. He was rewarded with a blue dot showing up.

"I got him," Benji proclaimed.

Skye appeared next to him. "He's heading for the station," she observed with one look at the map and the moving dot on it. She and Dunn exchanged a glance. "Get dressed."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"I don't know if I've said it before," Skye Holt said when she and Benji sat under the roof of a small bus station with a good view on Marcus Atwood, who was sitting in the pizza parlour on the other side of the road from the station, and apparently had the meal of his life, "but I don't understand any of this."

"Maybe he's just waiting for his train in there," Benji suggested, indulging in his cream cheese bagel.

"I feel like if I'm going to hear the word 'maybe' again, I need to punch something."

"You could smash me into a wall if it helps." He grinned at her, and for a second she actually smiled.

"I think you've had your fair share of that," she replied. Then she drank up the last bit of coffee from her paper cup and started playing with a big silver five-kroner-coin. Without looking at it, she let it dance back and forth between the fingers of one hand like a magician about to let it vanish. "Just why would he leave so early to catch a train? We've been here for three hours."

" _Presumably_ ," Benji stretched the word, and Skye rolled her eyes but had to smile again, "he just wanted to get out of the hotel. If he did get suspicious, that is."

"If..." she repeated thoughtfully, and sighed.

Benji had just finished his bagel when Atwood finally came out again. The Brit straightened, but apart from catching the coin in her fist Skye remained slumped down against the plexiglass as if she was the most bored person in the world and followed the target with her eyes only.

Atwood crossed the street and passed the two agents without taking any notice of them.

Skye turned her head the slightest bit to keep track of his way.

"Shouldn't we be following him?" Benji carefully asked.

"Not just yet." She sounded distracted. Her eyes were still fixed on Atwood. Between them and the station building, where Atwood was apparently headed, was just a parking lot that didn't provide much cover. "Now."

She got up and Benji followed closely. "We obviously can't look like we're following him. So it's best to just keep talking to make it seem like we're in deep discussion."

"Got it," Benji said, smiling at her conversational tone. "Actually, I don't think he's taking a train, though."

Atwood had stopped short at the row of cars closest to the building and lit a cigarette.

"Keep walking," Skye hissed.

They overtook him at a safe distance, and Holt led Benji into a small Seven Eleven. She stopped at one of the racks for postcards near the door and started turning it absentmindedly. Benji found she really had the hang of finding places that where good to inconspicuously spy on people. Then again, around here she had the home advantage.

"What is he all about?" Benji asked, beginning to feel her exasperation about this mission.

"He's waiting." There was a sparkle in her eyes.

A silver-grey van drove into the parking lot, turned, and stopped near their target. A man got out and he briefly talked to Atwood who had approached him. The driver talked with big gestures, eventually opened the door and shoved Atwood's leather suitcase in. Then he closed and locked the doors again and left in direction of the station. Atwood remained there, smoking in silence.

"That's excellent," Skye muttered. "I can hide in the back of the van and see where this is going. I may need you to distract him so that I can go in."

"What?" Benji seized her arm and held her back. "I'm not gonna let you go alone."

"Benji, we don't have time for this." She shook off his hand and stepped out of his reach.

"Skye, please, think for a second, think about what these people can do." He got around her, blocking her way. Skye looked uneasily towards the counter, but the shop's assistant showed no interest in them. "It's like you completely forgot what happened last time."

"Exactly," she said, raising her voice. "I just don't want you to-" Abruptly she cut herself off.

Benji let two seconds pass before he said, "I'm coming with you."

Holt saw Atwood get onto the passenger seat and shut the door. It was either now or never.

Benji's eyes hadn't let go of her.

"Fine."


	18. Trial and Error (6)

"At least this way we should avoid any cameras," Benji remarked when they felt the van slow down. The GPS on his phone had told them some time ago that they were definitely headed for Caulfield's mansion.

"At least those on the outside," she muttered.

He tried to be calm. "If there are any at all."

They sat crouched between crates of wine bottles. It was pitch dark, save for a thin line of light where the doors met. Then that vanished, too, and they came to a stop.

The two agents reached for their guns. They heard the doors open and being slammed shut again. They waited.

But nothing happened. No one came to open the doors of the back. Muffled voices, then silence. Dunn checked his watch and looked at Holt. She slowly climbed over a couple of crates, took out her pocket knife, and aptly disengaged the lock from the inside. Dunn covered her when she tentatively tapped the door. It swung open to reveal a dark underground garage. More importantly, an emptydark underground garage, except for another van similar to the one they were in, and lots of cardboard boxes stacked up on one wall.

"The signal from the suitcase is above us. Two levels, I'd say." Although he was almost whispering, the sound of his own voice made him flinch.

Holt looked around. A doorless little cabinet that appeared to be a sort of locker room, for staff probably, was attached to the garage. Several black flashlights were in a neat row up on a shelf. She snatched two, and threw one to her partner. Benji caught it.

"You didn't bring anything radio-like, did you?"

"...no," he admitted reluctantly, and for some reason he had to think of her grounding Crover.

"Me neither." Skye looked very unhappy. "What _do_ we got?"

Their guns, a couple of wiretaps, Holt's knife, half a pack of chewing gum (genuine ones, not explosives), and three miniature charges was their poor assessment.

"You never leave the house without those, do you?" Benji asked with a smile when she showed him the explosives, the same model that had once granted her access to a certain Canadian corner office fifteen levels above the ground.

"As a matter of fact I don't," she said, more seriously than he had expected. Had he said something wrong? "Lead the way."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

It was a lengthy and unnerving task that lay before them. Especially as either the signal wasn't as accurate as they had hoped or else the suitcase kept being moved. The fact that it was an outrageously huge villa didn't help. Also they had to avoid people, which led to a nastily time consuming version of Hide and Seek. Occasionally they split up, but since in their previous – if, as it had turned out, unnecessary – hurry, they hadn't brought any sort of communication equipment, they were forced to stick to their phones in an emergency, and Holt didn't like that.

Over several hours, they combed the second floor for a brown leather suitcase, a folder that wasn't covered in dust, a python, anything that could possibly lead them to their target, but they wound up empty-handed.

The first floor it was, then, which increased their risk of being found as there were more people. Their best guess was that due to Atwood's arrival something was planned, maybe a meeting, and Benji's bugs were duly planted in places that seemed suitable. Then again, who knew what this house was used for, probably the slight commotion going on was normal.

They started with a side-wing, to avoid running into someone. Dunn checked the signal again, not entirely trusting the device anymore after several hours of fruitless search.

"It certainly looks like we're getting closer." He grimaced a silent 'but'.

Holt shrugged, and opened the first door to her right.

They found themselves in a windowless and respectively dark room. Two beams of light cut the darkness when they turned on their flashlights. It appeared to be an office. Two walls were lined with ceiling-high shelves full of folders, a cabinet next to the door, and two desks facing each other made up the interior.

"Look at this," Benji said, flashing his torch over a huge board on the wall. Several orderly rows of keys dangled from it, reflecting the light and shining silvery. He stepped closer and read one of the small engraved brass plates over each key.

 _Marcos,_ it said. _Triumph, Spyder, Vanquish,_ it went on.

"These are the car keys." He took one from its hook to examine it more closely. It had a peculiarly shaped key chain. Some miniature statue that looked like a weird form of robot. Probably modern art. Benji took a couple of steps back again to take in the sheer size of the key board. "Wow, I knew she's got lots, but these are at least thirty, if not-"

The beam of Holt's flashlight hit him in the face. She didn't even have to say anything.

"Sorry," he said, more quietly. She lowered her flashlight again, searching for anything that could hold the target.

He didn't really know where his rush of courage came from, but he made use of it. "I know this is probably the worst moment to bring this up, but when we last met, what did you-"

"Sshh," she suddenly hissed.

His shoulders slumped a bit. He swallowed. "Skye... really, I just-"

"Benji, shut up for a second."

Now Benji heard it too: steps outside the door, sounding awfully close. He turned to her, a slightly panicked look in his eyes. There was no way out. She turned off her flashlight and, when he didn't react, reached over to do the same with his. Much to his dismay Benji flinched involuntarily when she started at him like that.

The flashlight hit the ground.

They might as well have fired their guns at random, it couldn't have sounded louder.

Holt's eyes widened in shock. The steps outside the door stopped. She quickly picked up the flashlight and turned it off, leaving them in complete darkness for a split second, before the door was opened and a rectangle of light poured in.

Skye felt an arm go round her, pulling her into the corner of the room. Out of surprise she uttered a small sound before she could suppress it, and a hand covered her mouth. Benji had pulled her behind the cabinet.

The door now swung open completely, but they were still in the shadow. Skye heard someone enter, and saw his shadow from the corner of her eye, but somehow she found it hard to concentrate on their unexpected visitor.

Someone turned on the lights, blinding the two agents momentarily. Benji carefully lowered his hand from her face, wrapping both of his arms around her middle for the lack of space in their tight spot, pressing her back against his chest. Skye felt his body warmth radiating over to her. She felt his fast but soundless breath in her hair. Felt his heartbeat match her own. His arms around her, stronger than she'd thought.

The flick of a light switch, the snap of a closing door, and the following darkness broke the spell. They were alone again. Still for a moment neither of them moved and their eyes adjusted to the darkness again.

"That was close," Benji whispered eventually.

"Yeah," she agreed. Slowly, Skye turned her head to face him. He looked down at her. His lips were horribly close. It would be so easy just to reach up a bit and kiss him. Thinking about that was a mistake.

Instantly Skye was flooded with those feelings again, those feelings that had suddenly appeared out of nowhere when he'd put an arm around her on that roof in Toronto. When he had somehow managed to get her to tell him things she'd never wanted to talk about to anyone, despite having known him for, what, two days? When he had made her feel better. And safe – which made precisely no sense at all, considering what had happened. And he just _kept_ making her smile.

Feelings that had just exploded into something even more intense when she'd kissed him for some reason. She hadn't even intended to, she had been thinking of something like a hug, but then had remembered the cast on his arm and converted the action in a panic-move in order not to hurt him.

Feelings that were way too strong and inexplicable to cope with. All this time she had done her best to stay away from people, done her solo operations, done her one-woman protection jobs, had kept quiet and to herself, had even stopped checking the files of assigned team members. Because what was the point if the people she worked with could be dead before the mission was over? She had always been aware of that risk, but after Samara it had become ever-present.

But what Skye had never done was stop to consider what would happen when being horrible to people wouldn't work at some point. And Benji didn't even hate her for staying away for more than a month as if it had all meant nothing while it really meant everything. Potentially.

"I think it's safe now," Skye whispered.

"Yeah," Benji said, still looking into her eyes. He was so close.

"You'd have to let go of me."

Realisation went over his features, and he drew his arms back. They stepped out of their hiding place. Benji cleared his throat and Skye handed him the flashlight back.

"We should-"

"Yeah."

"-keep looking."

They started on opposite sides of the room.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Two rooms further down they finally found luck to be on their side. It was a small guest room holding a bed, a small desk, and not much else. The curtains were drawn but the slightly see-through fabric granted enough natural light. Skye checked the door next to the bed, but it only led to a miniature en-suite bathroom. There was no place to hide anything, except maybe...

"Skye."

Benji bent down to pull the suitcase out from under the bed.

"It's about time," Skye said, and to Benji's great relief she was smiling, if a little exhausted.

They exchanged one last look, and Skye crossed her fingers before Benji dramatically undid the locks and opened it.

The only thing that seemed to be missing was the snake, and both of them found they could live with that.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Scanning documents with their phones and uploading them to a secure IMF server wasn't much more thrilling than searching a house for hours, but every 'File Successfully Converted' coming up on the screen filled Benji with a sort of satisfaction. His hand went back to the suitcase in an already automated motion to pick up the next page but met nothing but slightly frayed fabric. He looked up and found that Holt had just scanned the last one. For a second he couldn't believe it, but her smile was proof enough.

"We did it," he said. "We actually did it."

"We still need to get out of here, but yeah." She met his eyes. "We did it."


	19. Trial and Error (7)

They hardly made it out of the room before they ran into someone. Three men and one woman were walking directly past the door, and their conversation was interrupted by two strangers coming out of the place that held the key to their potential doom.

Skye had already pulled the trigger, but these guys were good. Her wrist was seized and the shots went into the door frame opposite them. The next moment she was pressed back against the wall with a hand around her neck ready to cut off the oxygen.

It wasn't as if Benji didn't put up a good fight, and although he managed to leave one of them groaning about a bloody nose it didn't take long to overpower them, exhausted as they were. The guy who still had Holt at his mercy relieved her of her gun and pressed it to her forehead.

"You will come with us."

Neither of them cared to answer, but the glance Benji caught from her was unmistakable: The intel was already uploaded to the server, Crover was probably going through it this second. It didn't really matter what happened to them from now on.

They were shoved into something like a lounge, with a couple of low sofas and a table with chairs neatly lined up around it. People were all across the wide room, several in security attire, but the majority of the men and women appeared to be unarmed.

Everything had the atmosphere of a business meeting when conversations were interrupted and all heads were turned in the direction of the agents. Benji counted eight people with weapons and nineteen in total, but none of them was Atwood. A woman in a short bright-green jacket stepped towards them and stopped in the middle of the room, posing as if she was on a stage. He recognised her from the search on his computer earlier.

"What's this?" Kirsten Caulfield asked. She was holding an apple, and had apparently just swallowed her first bite.

"We found these in front of Mr. _Atwood_ 's room, ma'am."

"Mr. Atwood?" She stressed the name peculiarly. "What could possibly be in his room worth a break-in?" The sarcasm in her voice could have been cut with a knife. She waved at the men to come in, and positioned herself facing the two agents. "Who are you?"

Neither of them said a word.

"What am I asking, as if you'd tell me anything." Caulfield laughed as if she'd been told a bad joke but was too polite not to. "One man," she chuckled. "Just because one man couldn't shut up. I told them there would be trouble. Nolan. I told him," she nodded enthusiastically, to prove her point, "that if he wouldn't let Ferner stay out of this we'd all end up screwed. And then his stupid fancy of digging up a phantom agency just because Davian fucked up back in his day. Men, am I right?"

The way she stood there, in her five inch heels, scrutinising them with a certain self-satisfied air, Holt wanted her to choke on her pretentious apple.

"He should have killed Ferner way earlier than he did. The mafia can always make use of fresh bodies. But you probably have no idea what I'm talking about. Not that it matters much."

Stabbing the floor with each step she took, Caulfield paraded a bit around the room and stopped right in front of Benji. She took another cracking bite out of the fruit. "Gun," she said, almost bored, not doubting for a second that her request would be executed.

As commanded, one of her security guards reached under Benji's jacket and produced his firearm.

Caulfield took it, and turned it over in her hand, seemingly very interested. "Glock 17," she observed, talking slowly and stretching the words a bit more than she had to. "Semi-automatic. Classic. But not bad." She handed the half-eaten apple to the person nearest to her without so much as looking at him. Caulfield took a couple of steps back and took out the magazine. "But it looks like you're not the trigger-happy one out of the two of you," she said on inspecting it. With a quick movement she shoved the still complete magazine back in. First, she looked at Holt, much longer than Benji would have liked anyone holding a weapon looking at his fellow agent. Then she averted her gaze slightly to the right, aimed one-handedly, and fired five times at the picture on the wall. "Not bad at all..." she murmured absentmindedly, and fired another five rounds.

One corner of the shredded canvas rolled up.

"Hated that picture," she stated, shaking her head as if she couldn't quite believe that she hadn't done that sooner. With her right shoe she kicked a couple of empty shells out of the way and sent them rolling along the floor boards. "So," Caulfield said, and positioned herself in front of Skye. "Seven bullets left." She raised her eyebrows like she wanted the agent to come up with some hilarious plan for the leftovers.

"Shells, actually," Skye said.

Caulfield let out a trilly laugh. "English. That's sweet. Did you hear that?" She turned to the one that was still holding her apple. "They're English." Swiftly she turned back to Skye. "What are you, MI6 or something?"

The agent just gave her a second's worth of a snappy laugh like she felt sorry for her.

Caulfield smiled back sweetly. "Seven bullets left, remember?" She threw a quick glance at Benji.

"Mh..." Skye pretended to contemplate this fact. "Seven might just be enough to..."

Without warning she kicked the guy who was still holding her just below the left knee. He let go of her within an instant, and a kick in the stomach a second later sent him tumbling backwards into the table where he knocked over a couple of chairs. But Skye's attention always remained in front of her: As soon as the sound of tumbling furniture reached her ears, she swept Caulfield's feet away from under her – a summer breeze would have been enough, considering her shoes, so Holt's foot meeting her ankle sidewise was practically impossible to withstand – and when she started falling the agent got hold of Benji's gun. A shot that went off by accident mingled with her high-pitched scream of surprise and hit the wall, which was when most of the people present started to realise what was currently happening.

"One!" Skye shouted.

The thug holding Benji got winged at the shoulder, his grip loosened and the Brit immediately threw him over, causing him to let out an angry shout of agony.

"That's two," Holt called, turned around, and incapacitated one of them who was just reaching for his own gun. "Three," she kept count, grabbing Benji's arm and pushing him behind her so that he would be covered, while gradually stepping backwards towards the door. Bullets four and five followed suit and were subsequently counted down.

"Number six!"

Another one sagged to the floor.

Everything had happened in about thirty seconds, and Caulfield was still on the floor when the two agents had reached the door and made a run for it.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Benji caught hold of her arm, tugged her along the corridor and into the staircase that sat in a spacious niche. Without thinking about it further, he led them downwards. Already the remaining guards were coming after them, several sets of steps echoing through the hallway above while the two of them rushed down the stairs as fast as they could. Two flights down they were presented with an unexpected sight. Lights flared up automatically as they stumbled into the huge garage, all concrete but tastefully illuminated. The space was dominated by indeed very nice old cars, neatly lined up against the walls without looking crammed into their respective spaces, and must have taken up the better part of the lower level of Caulfield Manor.

Skye dragged him behind a car just before another shot split the air when he didn't snap out of his momentary surprise. They crouched down, breathing heavily, trying to be quiet.

"They didn't see us," she whispered, back against the cold side of the car. "They are firing at random." She turned half around, peaking through the car's window, only to immediately get back down. She looked slightly lost.

"What is it?" Benji dared to ask, slightly discomforted at the sight of her confusion, but she violently motioned him to keep quiet.

That's when they heard voices, coming nearer.

"Where did they go?"

"They can't have gotten out. The gate is still down, they don't have a remote, and the manual switch is just beside it, they would have passed us."

"They must be hiding somewhere."

"When you see them, just shoot."

"You mean, kill them?"

"Yes, dammit, I mean kill them. They have seen everything. They won't be of much value to the boss unless they're dead."

"But... what if we hit a car?"

There was a pause.

"Don't hit the cars."

"She'd kill us."

"But how are we supposed to-"

"Listen, just don't damage the cars. If you have to, then... try to keep one alive. So that she can be mad at someone else."

"Sir, don't you think they can hear us if they are hiding somewhere down here?"

Four of them, Skye thought. Both agents had listened intently while making their way silently along between the cars in order to avoid their potential captors. Now, they were silent and all one could hear were hushed steps of heavy boots. Apparently they had split up, scouring the garage. In front of Benji, Skye stopped short without warning, leaning back against dark green metal. She swallowed, looked at him and shook her head, motioning ahead. He turned around, but a shadow only a few metres away made him stop. He ducked further and pressed his body against the car to hide from the security guard, when he felt something poke his thigh. He reached towards it and felt something in his pocket. A crazy idea crossed his mind.

"Are you sure they went down here?"

"Of course I'm sure, I've seen them take the stairs."

"And how do you know they didn't go up?"

"Well, I assumed..."

"Come back here, we're gonna split up."

Benji looked back up at the car. A smile crossed his face.

Holt saw his features change and stared at him incredulously. There was a slight possibility that their pursuers might be going away, but it wasn't time to smile just yet. Then he stretched out his palm, still grinning.

Holt couldn't believe it, then a smile spread onto her features as well.

"We need to get the gate open somehow," Benji breathed, craning his neck.

The shadow from five seconds ago was going further away. The four men gathered in front of the staircase, and started discussing. This was frustrating. They could have just shot them, if only...

"What are you doing?" he added, as Holt took out the box magazine of his gun and suddenly held the last bullet in her hand.

"This has to happen fast, okay? The gate control is directly next to it." She dared another glance over the side of the convertible they were using as cover to check on the security detail, and also caught sight of the steering wheel on the right side. "You drive." She took a deep breath, looked at him and shrugged. "Lucky number seven."

With that she got up and threw the bullet away from them. A quite impressive throw, too, Dunn found, as it went unnoticed over the guards' heads, landing with a metallic clatter on the bonnet of a Fiat Spider.

The effect on the still discussing guards was instantaneous. They shut up and under heavy gestures from their self-proclaimed leader went into the direction of the sudden noise. Holt held on to the gun tightly although it was practically useless now, pushed past Benji and rushed in the direction of the gate. Swiftly, she went along the row of cars between boots of vintage vehicles and the concrete wall.

"I can't see anyone," it sounded from the far end of the huge cavernous room.

"Will you _shut_ up!" came the hissed reply. "They are around here somewhere, I can feel it."

Holt reached the button in question and wasted no time pushing it. The gate lifted with a deafening croak that made her jump. She had sort of hoped that it would open at least a bit more quietly. Whirring, the gate lifted from the ground.

In that moment, another sound added to that of the gate opening, being amplified by the sheer size of the garage. The rich start-up of a 1974 Jaguar E-type cabriolet, getting out of its parking spot.

"They're over there!"

"No shit!"

Benji accelerated just a little too much when he ducked as several shots were fired in his direction. The rear-view mirror split.

"Don't shoot, you idiots, you'll hit the car! Get them!"

"There she is! Just shoot the bitch!"

Holt took cover behind a red Mustang, which was closest to her. The gate emitted heavy sighing noises, lifting itself sluggishly inch by inch. Benji hit the brakes just before the painfully slow gate could scratch the Jaguar's bonnet.

"Get in!"

Before he had finished, Skye had already jumped over the door and ducked into the shotgun seat. "Drive!" she shouted, as another salve of bullets broke loose.

The left corner of the windshield got hit. Dunn stepped on the gas as the gate was just above the top of the car. The Jaguar jolted up the driveway, he shifted gears, and then they were on the open road.

Benji hit it.


	20. Trial and Error (8)

Skye turned around, watching the villa grow smaller in her view and let out a cheer that turned into a laugh as she let herself fall back into the seat, her white-blond hair fluttering in the wind. "You snatched the keys!" she laughed. "You totally snatched the keys!"

Benji was a bit surprised by her sudden burst of emotion, but he had to laugh himself out of relief. Also he was quite enjoying himself, driving that car. A part of him wanted to put on sunglasses and turn _Magic Carpet Ride_ up to full volume.

"More like put them in my pocket by accident," he admitted laughing. He looked to his left to see her smile brightly at him.

"And went straight for the Jag," she ignored his confession. "Nice one, Dunn!"

"Your trick with the bullet wasn't bad either."

"That old bluff? It's a miracle that worked."

"They really were remarkably stupid," Benji admitted, which caused her to laugh even more.

"No match for the IMF."

"None whatsoever," he agreed, grinning. Both of them felt jittery with excitement and the fact that they had gotten out of there. They were still laughing as the last sunlight finally vanished and they were driving back to Randers.

Suddenly, she tensed. Skye looked up to the rear-vision mirror which was, thanks to the bullet it had taken, more focused on her than on Benji.

He sensed it instantly. "What's wrong?"

It was tough to see in the vanishing light but a black car was behind them. The headlights were turned off.

"They're following us."

The remainder of Benji's warm smile vanished as he reached to set the mirror to its intended position, although through the split glass combined with the darkness, there wasn't much to see, really. But she was right. Of course she was.

Without comment, Benji turned off the Jag's lights. "You know your way around, right?"

"Yes," she said.

Benji pushed up the car as the re-entered Randers. Their pursuers were rapidly catching up. "We're gonna have to lose them in town," he decided. With the lights of the town they became more visible again.

"That's a bad idea, they'll catch up in no time, we need open roads."

"We just had open roads and it didn't work, aren't there secret side streets or something?"

Cars honked as Dunn overtook a couple of vehicles on the right, then the street was almost clear. Randers was quiet at this time, and people in these parts usually took the speed limit seriously.

"This is a Danish small town, what do you expect?"

"How are we doing?"

"They're still catching up," Skye shouted over the wind, and ducked a second later when a bullet came her way. The left brake light shattered. She gasped. "What kind of Jag is this, losing against a fucking Mercedes. We need to get out of town again!"

"I don't think we have that much time!"

The Jaguar sped over Randersbro Bridge, the black Mercedes by now almost touching its rear.

Benji turned the steering wheel sharply to the right, onto Havnegade, a more busy street. Tires screeched as several vehicles had to stop short to make room for them and their tail. The Jaguar slid across the tarmac, causing Benji to countersteer violently, while Skye held on to the door as if for dear life.

He got them back in the lane, furiously shifting gears, and accelerated again, but their persistent friends had caught up by now and were almost level with the Jag. The cars connected, metal scratching. Apparently they had given up on the convertible. They got parallel and rammed them, nearly knocking them off the lane if it hadn't been for Benji's driving skills. The Mercedes' window was down, and Holt suddenly found herself staring into the barrel of a gun.

"Well, ain't this-"

She didn't let him finish, got on her knees in one quick move and reached over. Before the attacker realised what was happening in front of him, she had his gun in her hand.

"You know what?" she shouted over. "Shotgun." And pulled the trigger.

The black vehicle veered away slightly.

"Benji!" She sounded panicked.

The Brit looked ahead again, where traffic slowed due to a large crossroads.

Holt pointed over the steering wheel, to their right, off Havnegade. "That way! We can lose them there!"

He wasn't sure what she meant by "that way" as he couldn't identify any _way_ as such _,_ but he trusted her and hit the gas again, flinching as a gun went off next to him. He dared to check on his partner for a split second, and saw their pursuers careen into the Jag again, only this time somewhat uncontrolled. Holt had shot a tire.

"Go!" she shouted.

Dunn left the lane with a bump, something underneath them creaked complainingly. They went over a small patch of grass and found themselves on a narrow lane directly along the river. Processing the straight way in front of them, Benji once again floored the pedal. To their left, warehouses that belonged to the port sped past, to their right was the dark, shiny water of the Gudenå River meeting the Randers Fjord.

"Did it work? Did we lose them?" Benji checked the cracked mirror, when in precisely that moment, a painfully familiar black Mercedes behind them turned the headlights on full, blinding him momentarily.

"Watch out!" was the last thing he heard Holt shout next to him, before he experienced a second of being weightless.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Torben Anderson, a retired man in his early seventies who had spent the evening on his boat, just returned to solid ground when he heard the wonderfully rough sound of a motor. He turned, and despite the dim lighting conditions of the dock he could have sworn that a dark green '74 Jaguar convertible was just coming with considerable speed along Kornkajen, before taking a leap and diving spectacularly into the black water just in front of his little landing.

Seconds later, a black car followed, only that this driver had the good sense to use the brakes, although his car turned sideways in order to avoid the edge. Doors flew open, and a couple of men rushed out, not hesitating a second to fire blindly into the water in front of them. The convertible however, was already out of sight, sinking rapidly.

Anderson stared, wide-eyed. He wondered if maybe he had one whiskey too many that night, before he ran off to call for help.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Skye had never bothered to put on her seat belt, which turned out to be her luck. While the Jag was still in the air, she was already hurled out of the car. She felt the seat sink away and slid along the boot, experiencing everything as if in slow motion, yet all happened so fast that it left her no time to muster a sound. Hitting the icy water rendered her shocked for a couple of seconds, then she started kicking herself up, her instantly soaked clothes already dragging her down. Breaking through the surface, she yanked off her jacket. Air filled her lungs again and she tried to get some orientation, when a bullet hit the water a couple of metres behind her. She was directly at the wall that had functioned as their personal launch ramp. Instinctively she got under water again, pressing her body against the concrete wall. Benji _._ Where was Benji?

The salve subsided after a couple of seconds. She dared to get up again.

"I'm out of ammo!"

"Look at me, and tell me if I care."

"Where the hell are they?"

"Still under water, sir."

"No shit. We need lights. You, turn the car, and get the headlights on!"

Skye dove again. Her fellow agent was nowhere to be seen. Which left only one possibility. She gained momentum by kicking herself off the wall. The security detail had one point, they did need light. She didn't see much, but the Jag had to be in that direction. Her hands touched something solid, something suspiciously feeling like a 1974 model cabriolet. Without warning, things lit up when someone had obviously managed to turn on the headlights and pointed them at the water. Which didn't do them much good, for everything they achieved doing that was a bright mirror image of their surroundings. If anything, they saw less than before.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The car touched ground, bonnet first, hurling up sand and mud from the bottom of the not very deep harbour bay. Benji's attention was focused on getting out of the seatbelt's merciless grip. It stuck. He was already short on air, everything had happened too fast, but at least they weren't shooting anymore. A projectile that hadmissed his head by inches, tearing a sparkly trail through the water, had given him the shock of his life. Running out of oxygen, he started panicking as nothing moved.

 _So that's it, then_ , he thought, when he felt something brush his shoulder. Benji didn't entirely understand what was happening around him, all that really mattered was the fact that the seatbelt wasn't cutting into his skin anymore. He was dragged up and sidewise, and he finally remembered how to move.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"There they are!"

"Will you _shoot_ already!"

"How did they end up there?"

"Stop talking and kill them!"

"What am I supposed to do, she took my gun!"

Several bullets hit the shadow that had appeared near the wall, the stirred water splashing against it in slurping waves. The shadow surfaced, motionless apart from the slow swaying of the waves.

Several bubbles came up, and with that release of trapped air Skye's discarded jacket collapsed flatly on the water.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Dunn and Holt watched from in between the private boats, hidden under a small gangplank not far from the spot where Torben Anderson had seen everything a couple of minutes ago.

They held on to the gaps in the boards above them, trying to calm down. Their pursuers fired blindly at everything that was nothing, until they were out of ammunition for good, under loud swearing from their presumed leader. The agents did not dare to leave their hiding place, the chance of being seen was too high. It was their luck that little later a siren sounded through the dark. The effect was instant. Guns were thrown away, doors were slammed shut, tires ground over sandy concrete.

Skye had a feeling they wouldn't get far.

With their last reserves, the two agents hauled themselves onto the jetty.

"Come on, we have to keep moving," Skye said when Benji took a few seconds, although she sounded not very convincing. Shaking, she was rubbing her arms, her lips were of a blueish colour, water was dripping from her hair and clothes. If he hadn't been soaked to the bone himself, he would have given her his jacket. He got up and the two of them started walking.

"Where to?" he rasped. "A safe house?" He had had a look at all available hide-outs in the region before all of this had happened, but couldn't recall if there were any close by. He wasn't even sure where they were, exactly.

Skye remembered that despite everything, this was still one of his first missions. He might be talented, but he was lacking experience. As for his question, she didn't think they were going to track them down now. Those sirens had sounded pretty close. Probably someone had seen them dive into the bay and called the police. They were going to have questions, but nothing led to her and Benji. She couldn't be sure, of course, maybe there was still more to come, but over the years she had learned to trust her gut feeling.

"We'll go back to the hotel. It's closest."


	21. Trial and Error (9)

"What happened to you?!" Crover said when two dripping wet figures entered the hotel room.

"Car chase. River," Benji pressed through chattering teeth.

Skye locked the door as soon as they were both inside. "Long story. We need a car that can't be traced. And something to eat, I'm dead serious. You think you can manage that?"

"Yes, please. Food," Benji added.

Crover nodded, a bit startled, but seemingly eager to help.

"Wait," Holt held him back before he was out. "Tell me the upload worked."

The young agent smiled. "Everything is there. We're already tearing it apart."

She sighed relieved, and waved dismissively at him.

"You can shower first," Benji said, when the door fell shut and they were alone.

"Thanks." She didn't particularly feel like water, but the promise of being warm again beat everything. "I won't be long." She disappeared in the bathroom.

Benji sat down. He needed a minute. Only after a while he really noticed how cold he was, and took off his jacket. The Brit's gaze met a hotel-issued tray on the table, holding treasures such as instant coffee, little biscuits, and a small armada of teabags. He set out to make tea. He looked around while waiting for the water to boil. His shirt was annoying him, it was still wet and clung to his body, making him feel stiff. He had just unbuttoned it, when he spotted something on the floor next to Skye's bed. Sheets of paper. Desperate for a distraction he picked them up. Small, neat handwriting covered most of them. The letters were all capitals and broader than they were tall. They fitted Skye, somehow. Curiously he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. The letters M-O-C-L-A-Y kept showing up in several variations, spelt backwards, with assigned numbers underneath, in grids and circles assigning different letters. It looked like she had been trying to crack a code, but hadn't succeeded.

Benji flinched when a loud click sounded behind him. It just was the water boiler. He exhaled loudly, folded the paper back up and put it on the nightstand, where he assumed it had come from.

He was pouring steaming water into two mugs, when the bathroom door opened.

"Benji?" He turned around. Holt was wearing a towel. In her hand she held the sweatshirt he had left in there just this morning when they had left in such a hurry. "May I? The only dry thing I've got left is that hotel uniform."

"Sure," he managed. His throat suddenly felt raspy.

Skye smiled at him, and closed the door. A minute later she came out again, carrying the hair dryer. "You should really hit the shower." She sounded concerned.

Benji guessed he didn't look too well. The cold had gotten to him.

Only when the hot water hit him, the agent realised just how stiff his body had become over the last half hour. Then he had to think about the fact that he had just seen Skye Holt in soaking wet clothes, a towel and his own sweatshirt, and he didn't quite know what to make of it.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

It was raining again by the time he came back out. Skye was sitting on the sofa, a blanket over her legs, warming her hands on the half-empty cup of tea. He couldn't help smiling at the sight, the slightly ruffled light blond hair, and his sweatshirt which was way too big for her... Benji thought she looked very pretty.

What was it with that woman? What had that kiss been all about? Had it been serious or just a way of saying _see ya_ , and that was that? Maybe she had just assumed that they would never meet again anyway. Maybe she was waiting for him to say something. But what if she regretted it, and didn't want to talk about it – ever?

And maybe he just kept obsessing and should the hell quit that.

"Feeling better?" she said when she saw him.

"Much better." He crossed the room to collect his tea. "Are you this hungry, too?"

She nodded. "Crover better be useful this time."

Benji chuckled and opened the mini bar. "We still have chocolate," he said and turned around to her.

Her smile was enough of an answer. Benji put his mug on the table and slumped down next to her. For a while they just sat there, sharing the chocolate.

"What now? Should we stay here?" he asked into the silence.

"Trust me," she nodded. "For now they won't find us here. We'll get a couple hours of sleep and leave first thing in the morning."

"I trust you."

He'd already said that last night when he'd asked about her middle name. This time, she didn't swallow her question. "Why?" Skye leaned back into the sofa, but kept looking at him. "I just led you head first into a river."

Benji leaned back as well. "It worked, didn't it?"

Skye blinked. "You almost drowned."

"But then you were there." He smiled and shrugged, and for some reason Skye couldn't shake her head in disbelief without smiling as well.

Benji was sure his heart had just skipped a beat.

"I'm sorry I didn't visit you after Toronto," she suddenly said. "I should have stopped by to see how you're doing."

Benji didn't understand where that was coming from. He cleared his throat. "I told you, it's fine." He tried to decipher her facial expression, but he was too confused himself to see through her.

"No, it's not," she said. "I really wanted to. I thought a lot about you," she added, more quietly.

"Well, why didn't you?" he asked softly.

Skye pulled her legs up on the sofa. "I was scared," she admitted.

"Scared? Of what?"

The silence that followed seemed to last forever.

"What I told you out on the roof in Toronto," she finally said, "about Connor and that mission - I've never talked about that to anyone since that happened. I didn't even think about it. And then you were there and kind of... stirred things up."

"I'm sorry," Benji said in a small voice.

"No... not in a bad way. Just ever since I get all these memories... I know this is a bit weird. I'm sorry if I'm freaking you out." Skye paused again. "I don't even know what made me tell you. I... wanted you to know. If that makes any sense." She'd gotten awfully quiet. "And then I kind of ruined it." Skye suddenly felt horrible. It felt like she was probably ruining everything right _now,_ but she also knew she owed him an explanation and now that she had started there was no going back.

Benji was freaked out all right. But he hadn't been aware that it could feel so nice. "What are you talking about?"

"I really wanted to, to get to know you. And then I just left and didn't talk to you for six weeks."

He had to concentrate on formulating a sentence. Her hair smelled so good, it was distracting. "Why did you stay away?"

Again she took some time to answer. "When I kissed you – I don't know why I did that. I'm sorry. But what that made me feel - and that's what scared me - that was just... way too much."

Benji was sure she must be able to hear his heartbeat considering that she was just inches away from him, and it was horribly fast.

"Don't be."

"Mh?"

"Don't be sorry. About kissing me."

Skye slowly raised her head and tried to look at him.

"I liked it."

"You did?"

Benji nodded and plucked up his courage. "As for that feeling... maybe it just takes some getting used to."

Skye met his eyes after all, but didn't know what to say. Had he just meant what she thought he -

"All right, I got pretty much everything they had left of the buffet downstairs," Crover said upon re-entering the room with a covered platter balancing in his hands. "And I think I've worked out the car, too." He set the oversized tray down on the table between the tea cups, wondering why Agent Dunn was looking daggers at him. This time he was unaware of having messed up. "So... what, uh, is the plan?"

"We're gonna head north," Agent Holt said. "We can cross to Norway from Hirtshals, and see how we're doing from there."


	22. Trial and Error (10)

"Benji. Benji, wake up."

A sharp intake of breath. Darkness. Where – right. Kristiansand. Norway. Skye.

"You were dreaming," she said softly.

Benji turned his head to her, and only when she let go of his shoulder he realised she'd been touching him. Skye looked very awake, and a bit concerned. His heartbeat sped up a bit, although it was still quite fast from the nightmare. A warm feeling slowly spread through his body when he saw how the pale moonlight shining through the window tinted her hair silvery.

"Sorry I woke you."

"Never mind." She was still kneeling in front of his bed, only now slightly more relaxed. "Do you need anything?"

He sat up, leaned against the wall and rubbed a hand over his face. "No, I'll be fine." He took a deep breath. "Thanks."

Their eyes met. Then Skye sat down at the foot of his bed, leaning against the wall just like him.

"Do you often have nightmares?"

Benji was wondering if he had been talking in his sleep to wake her, or worse. The walls were thin here, but still she had been in a whole other room. It was the first time, he realised, that he wasn't alone after waking up from a dream. It felt nice.

"Sometimes," he said carefully.

"What about?"

He didn't say anything for a while, feeling he couldn't simply tell her the whole of his damaged dreams that just wouldn't go away.

"You don't have to tell me, it's none of my business," she said. Before he could tell her that that was not the reason, she continued, "I know it can be hard to talk about certain things. Only sometimes it really helps."

The audible small smile in her voice, and everything else that sentence was holding sent a warm shudder through his chest. "Do you get them, too?"

"Dreams?"

"Yeah."

Skye nodded. "It was worse when I had just started field work. When all this was still new. But it got better." She thoughtfully examined the blanket and looked as if she might add something else, but she kept quiet.

Benji breathed deeply. "It's... I told you about what happened in India, right? When I went back to the power room to see what was taking so long, and saw Brandt and Wistrom fighting?"

"When you saved the world, you mean." She said it in this half-ironic, half-serious way, that caused him to smile.

His chuckle wasn't longer than a heartbeat, though. "It's just – sometimes I dream that I miss Wistrom and instead..." Benji broke off.

They were both quiet, and he felt that Skye knew what he had meant to say.

"They're just dreams." She sounded a bit unhappy with her words. "They're there to remind us what didn't happen."

Again Benji felt like there was a lot more hidden beneath that sentence than what could be grasped, only this time he wasn't in on it. Then she looked back at him. "I doubt there's any scotch 'round here, but do you feel like tea?"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Benji woke up to a strange noise. He had been in that stage of calm immobility, but not quite asleep yet. The sound continued, and he was fully awake. He sat up and listened. It reminded him of a small cat. A sad one. Then his brain connected the dots and he wondered why the hell he was still sitting here. He nudged the door open and crossed the small room to Skye's sofa. The thin blanket wasn't enough to keep her warm, he thought, but the actual problem was that she sounded like she was crying, or very quietly losing a fight, while being asleep at the same time.

For a second he contemplated going back to sleep and leaving her alone, then she started mumbling a continuous "No..." which broke his heart then and there.

He crouched down in front of her. Remembering last night, he put a hand on her shoulder, feeling her warmth through the layers of blanket and sweatshirt, and carefully said her name.

"Skye?"

 _It's okay._

She flinched soundlessly away from his hand, opened her eyes and then flinched more violently when she saw a face this close to hers. He had scared her. She jerked upright.

"I'm sorry," he began, trying to sound reassuring.

She was breathing fast and heavily, cradling the blanket around her, still trying to orient herself. "Benji..." she mumbled under her breath, in a way that was intended to calm her down, telling herself that it was just him, not a threat.

"Just a dream," he said.

Something about his voice was utterly calming. Skye forced herself to breath deeply, effectively slowing her heart rate. She started nodding as she pulled her knees up to her chest and leaned against the sofa. "Just a dream," she repeated whispering.

Benji watched her as she rested her forehead on her knees and continued to forcibly ease her breathing. He felt she was embarrassed, even though she had no reason to feel that way in front of him. "I'll make you some tea," he decided, and went over to the kitchenette to give her some space.

Skye was grateful for that, even though she couldn't bring herself to voice it. When he came back with a steaming cup, he looked indecisive for just a moment too long while standing in the middle of the room.

Skye pushed her pillow out of the way to make space for him, so he sat down next to her, close, but not touching, and handed her the tea cup. "Still no scotch," he apologised.

"We should probably get some if it goes on like this," she said weakly.

"You want to talk about it?" Benji asked compassionately.

Skye didn't say anything, just stared at the mug in her hands.

"It's all right, you don't have to."

"I made you tell me as well..."

"You still don't have to."

She contemplated this. "Seems unfair."

"These things usually aren't fair," he smiled. "And we're even now."

She returned his smile, a very small one that took effort, but it felt real nevertheless.

The silence that ensued felt nice, at least to her. Comforting and cared for. She knew Benji had a hard time keeping quiet, and probably thought he wasn't helping by not saying anything, but she hoped it felt nice for him too. She wanted to thank him, but couldn't get herself to say it. She wanted to tell him about her nightmare, but no words came out. She wanted to say how much it meant to her that he was here, even though nothing seemed to make sense, but the silence remained unbroken. Skye could have slapped herself for being such a coward.

"Do you know that when you have so many things you want to say that you don't know where to start and in the end you say nothing at all?" Benji asked thoughtfully.

For a second Skye stared, wondering if he'd just read her mind. "All the time."

He smiled at her. It made her feel warm and something twitched in her stomach, causing her to relax. She quickly looked back at the tea cup.

"I was in a plane crash once," she then said after a deep breath. "We were inevitably going down, all I could do was try to land us intact." She spoke slowly and considered. "We came down over Nevada, way too quickly. It was pretty much just desert, and there was, um... you know these rock formations?"

Benji nodded.

"The wheels didn't grip on the sand, and the left wing came off on one of those as we kept sliding. That's what eventually stopped us, because we tipped to the side and had the other wing dragging, so..." She made an illustrating motion with her hand. "You know the feeling when you've been driving fast for a while, like on a highway, and then you stop but somehow still feel the motion?" When she glanced at him, he looked like he was really listening.

"Yeah."

"I had that, just ten times worse. There was dust everywhere, and I couldn't move, I couldn't hear anything, and it felt like I wasn't breathing. I didn't know whether the others were okay, I didn't know whether anyone would be coming for us, and I had no sense of time. It must have taken only about twenty minutes until people came, but it felt like hours. And all the time I was just hoping to pass out, but I didn't. Only once they had dragged me out of the wreckage and into a car I did. That was one of the scariest moments." She paused, uncertain how to continue under Benji's expectant look. "That's – that's not what my nightmare was," she clarified. "But that's what it used to feel like after nightmares. Sometimes for up to an hour. But it got better." She looked into his eyes. "They don't go away, but it gets better."

Benji nodded, trying to hold her gaze, but she looked away again too quickly. "Were they okay?" he asked quietly. "The others on the plane?"

Skye shook her head. Surprised she looked to her right to see Benji's hand on hers. It felt so nice. She couldn't let it happen that he took it away again, so she curled her fingers around his, maybe a little too tight but she didn't care.

"I should shut up more," he said and was about to apologise.

Skye shook her head. "It's nice when you don't shut up."

He gently stroked his thumb over her hand.

That was when Crover started snoring so loudly that they heard it through the door. The walls in this place weren't very thick to begin with, but the noises penetrating their ears were monstrous.

The next second they mingled with the most wonderful sound Benji could imagine. Skye was laughing. Quietly, and still a bit shaken, not quite allowing the laughter to fully take over, but still: she smiled, and it felt honest and pretty, causing Benji to laugh as well. Their eyes met.

"Can you believe this guy," Skye kept smiling.

"At least one of us can sleep," Benji replied.

"We should all get back to bed. We have a country to skip tomorrow."

He nodded and slowly got up, sorry to let go of her hand. "If you need more tea, let me know."

Again, he'd made her smile. "I will."

"Good night."

"Good night, Benji."

* * *

 _Author's Note: If you want to read the full story behind the plane crash Skye talked about, check out my story Above and Beyond._

 _Cheers._


	23. Lost and Found (1)

Author's Note: If you're still with this story, thank you for being so patient with me and Skye.

Welcome to Part Three (out of four).

Enjoy.

* * *

 **Part Three: Lost and Found**

Benji was looking out of the plane's window as they passed over Denmark, resting his head on his arm. That was where his last mission had started out.

They had listened to Skye, and gone for the long escape route. Hence they had made their way up north to Hirtshals, boarded a ferry to the Norwegian port of Kristiansand, and two days later another one to Newcastle. Once there they had split up, and Benji had finally caught a plane to Washington from Edinburgh. Multiple times they had changed their names, and overall it took them more than a week.

It had been wonderful. More than once Benji found himself wishing for a long deep-cover mission alone with her. Not that anything had happened. There had seemed to be a secret agreement that prevented certain mentioned feelings from being addressed. Also Crover had been in the way.

But they had become friends. Somehow it hadn't been that much of a buzzkill that they were on the run from serious threats, instead sharing rooms had brought a sort of school trip air with it, causing lots of shared laughter. Stories had been exchanged, starting out with accounts of previous missions but soon going back further, into their times at university, school, and childhood. Especially after his nightmare they had kept talking for hours. Benji felt like he'd known her for far longer than just a couple of weeks.

The sole but devastating downside had been when, once reunited at HQ, Skye received a mission that required her to go to Copenhagen. Alone.

What an irony, to be so close again in such a short time. He had barely spent three days in D.C. And now on to Malmö. So close.

"Benji?"

His head spun around to Ethan, as if he'd been caught at something. "Mh?"

"Something wrong?" Saying that the team leader looked concerned would have been exaggerated, but there was something in his glance.

"No, everything's fine," he said, smiling, and turned back to his laptop.

"It better be," Luther said from across the small aisle. "We won't get another chance like this any time soon."

Disdainfully Benji eyed the mask Luther just had completed. _Everybody_ got to wear a mask but him, he wasn't just imagining this – it was a fact.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Luther grabbed the freshly unconscious form of the man he was impersonating and dragged him further into the closet. He left him slumped against the wall, hands tied behind his back and a piece of duct tape over his mouth. He would be fine.

One last time Agent Stickell felt for the tranquillizer in his pocket. Then he went back outside, crossed the corridor and placed himself next to the door the bodyguard in question had been watching.

"I'm set," he announced curtly. His voice was different, making his disguise virtually undetectable.

" _Acknowledged,"_ Ethan responded.

" _Target moving in..."_ Benji said, stretching the last word as he kept his eyes fixed on the moving dot on his computer screen. _"Three... two... one..."_

The door next to Luther opened and a man in his forties stepped through.

"And the guy was fucking French," he was just saying into a mobile phone. "And has the audacity to say that to my face... Yes, you do that. I will see you tomorrow." He hung up, and tucked the phone in the inside pocket of his jacket.

Having the air of a cliché Australian surfer - tall, broad-shouldered, blond and blue-eyed – who had accidentally woken up in a suit, Moritz Christensen was the classic Swedish pretty boy. At least that's what Luther found as he joined the three body guards that were already surrounding him.

Their target greeted him with a nod.

"Sir," Luther said.

" _Nightowl, I think I got a slight problem here_ , _"_ Ethan suddenly said over the comm.

Luther didn't like the sound of that.

/\/\/\

" _What do you mean, problem?"_ Benji asked.

"You remember the exit you promised me?" Ethan was blinded by the light reflected from the silvery surface in front of him. He quickly looked down so that his headlamp illuminated the thin black gloves on his hands.

" _Yes, what about it?"_

"It's not there." Crawling through a ventilation shaft was not an issue for him as long as there was a way out – which now wasn't the case.

" _What do you mean, it's not there, it should be right in front of you."_

"In front of me is a wall."

" _But - that's impossible, according to these plans-"_ Benji started mumbling frantically, and Ethan could hear faint typing noises and some shifting of papers.

Sighing silently, he steadied his head on one hand, trying to get more comfortable as this was probably going to take some time. If anyone had seen him, and if it hadn't been for the fact that he was lying on his stomach, he would have looked like a bored student in an especially dull History lesson.

/\/\/\

Benji sat in the back of his van outside the venue in front of his computers, the plans of the place's ventilation system slightly crumpled on his lap, and tried to work out what had gone wrong.

" _Look, there's three possibilities, either I go left, or I go right, or I go backwards."_ There was a brief pause from their team leader. _"But please don't make me go backwards."_

Benji ran a hand through his hair. "Going backwards won't get us anywhere. I don't understand, the shaft you're in should continue further on." He looked back on the computer screen where Ethan and Luther were two dots in different parts of the building – there it was, the shaft in question. Just why was it on the plans but not in front of Ethan? "That must be part of their security system. The plans we got are wrong. How the hell did they do that?"

" _We'll worry about that later, left or right?"_

"Well, apparently we can't trust these plans," the techie said with a doubtful and slightly worried look at the screen, discarding the papers entirely by shoving them on the floor somewhere to his right, "but if you go left you should end up in the corridor instead. You should be able to get in with the skeleton key, and Eagle will take it from there."

" _Acknowledged."_

Benji heard him get in motion, while his fingers were already pressing keys again. The plan of the building shrank back into a corner, and several images of cameras appeared on screen. "Oh great," he sighed under his breath.

" _What now?"_

"It's a bit of a blind spot. I can see the door to the room holding the vault, and the dead end of the hallway, but I can't tell you if there's anyone waiting for you in the other direction."

" _I'll find out the old-fashioned way,"_ Ethan said confidently.

Benji wasn't sure he liked the old-fashioned way.

/\/\/\

Luther had been in the field too long to lose sweat over something like this. After all, sweating while wearing a mask was more than unpleasant. Also his friendship with Ethan Hunt had forced him to grow accustomed to situations that didn't go as planned.

Despite all of this, the conversation over the comm link made the agent uneasy, and the way the security guard to his right was eyeing him didn't improve matters.

"Thank you, gentlemen." Christensen stopped before the door to his private quarters.

"Sir, if I may have a word with you," Luther began when the other three had already started to turn away.

Christensen looked surprised and annoyed. One of the other guards stopped and turned back around. Luther was about to say something when he noticed Christensen's face take on an indescribable expression and his gaze go over his shoulder to a point behind the agent.

Luther turned around, only to look directly into the face he himself was wearing.

/\/\/\

A couple of levels down a security guard stiffened when he heard a quiet metallic noise he couldn't place. He looked right, but the corridor ended in a dead end and was of course deserted. He looked left. Nothing there as well, but he took the few steps in that direction it needed to look around the corner. He never got that far, for by turning away he missed the dark clad figure lowering itself from the ventilation shaft and landing with stunning silence on the floor.

Next thing he knew was that a blow was delivered to the back of his head the accuracy and force of which he would have envied if his head hadn't started to spin too much to think. He fell, barely catching himself on his knees and hands before his torso met the ground. A kick in the stomach followed, before he was dragged up against all his instincts. The unknown held him upright somehow to throw one last punch against his jaw that send him turning sidewise before he met the wall that turned out to be absolutely perfect for sliding down into the warm safety of unconsciousness.

/\/\/\

Ethan sighed and shook his hand to loosen up his fingers again as he looked at the knocked out guard to his feet. He was already reaching for the skeleton key when he realised there were strange noises in his comm link. During his own little fight, he'd missed it, but in his ear distinct struggling noises were to be heard as well.

"Nightowl, report."

Rustling and groans met his ear.

"Eagle? Anyone, come in."

Finally, there was a voice.

" _Falcon, change of plan!"_ Benji shouted. He sounded as if he was running. _"Eagle's cover is blown, repeat, his cover is blown, I'm going in, he needs help."_

A shot fell.

"Eagle?"

The silence that followed was broken by the sound of footsteps. These sounded awfully close, nothing in comparison to the dulled noises over the earpiece.

" _Eagle, I see you."_

Another gunshot sounded, and Ethan really didn't know what to make of the noises that reached him; his attention was split between the comm link and the footsteps coming nearer.

" _Falcon, the target is gone,"_ Luther's voice sounded.

"I'm about to get company down here."

" _I doubt they're gonna leave us alone here either. We gotta get out."_

Ethan gritted his teeth when his hands curled into fists in order to greet the five-headed security detail about to join him. Then he said the one word he probably hated most, because usually it meant nothing good – the last time he'd used it, the Kremlin had been bombed to pieces five minutes later. Still, it was no use now. "Abort."


	24. Lost and Found (2)

Ethan sat at the wooden table and stared at the shelf opposite him. There was a cut over his left temple that looked worse than it was, and his shoulder complained occasionally at certain movements, but essentially he just felt a bit sorry for the security detail he'd messed up. That could have been avoided. While Ethan was busy staring at the things that had somehow found their way into an IMF safe house over the years, his teammates tried to find out what they would do now. It had been the ideal plan, infiltrating _after_ all the final security checks were done so that no one would believe something could have slipped their attention. Christensen had insisted on inspecting everything personally before things got started. It had been a once in a lifetime chance, and it had been blown.

"We could try to tunnel," Benji suggested weakly.

"I'd like to see you getting a big ass drill next to that thing without anyone noticing," Luther replied.

"We could get in at night," Benji said. "Not this night, obviously, but any other night. We could take out some window, silence the alarms-"

"Even if we would manage to get to the right floor, we need that hand print to access the vault," Luther drowned the idea.

Benji nodded in silence before helping himself to a slice of cold pizza – leftovers from yesterday, before everything had gone south, that now served as their breakfast.

Without warning Ethan suddenly pushed his chair back and crossed the room.

"Any bright ideas?" Luther asked his friend.

Instead of answering he bent down in front of the shelf and pulled a narrow box out of thin cardboard from one of the lower boards. He went back to his team, shoved pizza, laptops, and useless blueprints of the ventilation system out of the way and slammed the box on the desktop.

"Clue," he said, as if that would explain everything.

"Cluedo," Benji corrected, scrutinising the dusty game.

"Where I come from it's called Clue," Ethan countered, taking the board out and gathering the playing pieces. "Anyway, that's not the point-"

"It says Cluedo here," Benji persisted, waving the faded lid.

"That doesn't-"

"He's right, it says Cluedo," Luther went along, because for once he didn't see the point in playing games now, and also he felt like bugging Ethan.

"Look, right here." Benji succeeded in camouflaging his amusement when he held it right under Ethan's nose to prove his point, as if he was patiently explaining something to a child for the third time.

"Can't argue with that," Luther shrugged nonchalantly.

"Fine," Ethan gave in. "Techies," he muttered under his breath, before picking it up again. "All right-"

"Say it," Luther demanded.

Nothing could have conveyed 'Seriously?' more than the look Hunt gave his friend, but a smile was playing on his features as well. Secretly he was glad that the mood was raised again, even if it meant giving in.

He sighed in defeat. "Cluedo."

Luther fell into sarcastically slow clapping.

"We know this was hard for you, Ethan," Benji said approvingly. However he managed to stay serious. Ethan could hardly keep a straight face.

"Can I get on now?"

Benji gave in to his grin, and Luther gestured at him to go ahead.

"This is the vault," Ethan explained, and put the playing token of the dagger in the middle of the board, on the room titled 'Cellar'. "This is the target." He put Colonel Mustard into the room marked 'Study'. "And that's us." The Reverend Green was positioned in the 'Hall'. "It's all about ruling out. We know we can't get to him in the Study. So we have to do it somewhere else." Dramatically Hunt pushed the yellow piece into the Hall.

Benji frowned at the board game in front of him, but Luther apparently understood more than he did.

"You can't be serious."

"Yes."

"We can't go back tonight."

"It's the only chance we have," Ethan said with a curious expression, some mixture of enthusiasm, sympathy, and despair.

"You gotta be kidding me," Luther said.

"It's the last time Christensen will come out in the open."

Luther stared at him. "It's the _opening_ night!"

"Exactly!"

"Think this through, after what happened tonight he's gonna double and triple security, _if_ he shows up at all."

"He has to show up," Ethan persisted.

"And then what? What do you wanna do, man, try the exact same thing again?" Luther sounded annoyed. "I thought we had established that it didn't work, and it's gonna work even less with a whole bunch of people around." He crossed his arms over his chest.

"In case you hadn't noticed, we're running out of time. We need that intel."

"Ethan, if we can't get it by impersonating his body guards, literally the only people he lets within touching distance, how do you expect this to work when some random guest comes along?"

"Well, what do you suggest then?" Hunt raised his voice so unexpectedly that it made Benji flinch a bit.

Luther however seemed to have waited for that question. "In my opinion there's only one way we can get it from him. He's old-fashioned. He's way too suspicious of a man." With a decided move, he placed Miss Scarlett in the Ballroom. "We need a girl and pull the oldest trick in the book: dress her up and let her snatch it from him. It'll be a week until he even notices."

Ethan eyed the red playing piece doubtfully. "If she's foreign he'll get suspicious anyway."

"Jesus, Ethan, then we get someone who speaks Swedish. I'm sure there's _some_ one around who'll live up to that."

The team leader looked somewhat frustrated. "Still, the thing is tonight. It's gonna be too late before we fly someone in who fits the profile."

Benji, who had been trying to say something for the last couple of sentences, finally found a gap in the back and forth between the two senior agents. "Would you hold it for a minute, thank you," he spoke up, and both heads turned in his direction. "I think I know just whom to call."

/\/\/\/\

Hardly two hours later, there was a knock at the door of their make-shift headquarters.

"I'll get it," Benji volunteered, checking his watch as he went through the door to the hallway to open.

She was wearing a dark blue blouse over tight light jeans, a grey sportsbag casually over her shoulder. Her hair was piled up to something that might have been a bun, only in a really messy way. Skye looked very Scandinavian.

"Hi," he said, and couldn't suppress a smile spreading on his face. "You were quick."

"It's just over the bridge," she gave as an explanation, smiling. "Long time no see."

"Did you miss me?"

"You wish," she chuckled.

"That's not a no."

Skye stepped inside and dragged the door shut. "I brought you something."

His surprise became an even bigger grin when he saw the Mars bar she produced out of the bag and held it out to him.

"Not that any minibar can beat the one in Randers, but they certainly tried."

He chuckled and met her eyes. Somehow neither of them knew what to say next, resulting in them both looking at each other for a while, although they didn't seem to mind the silence.

"It's good to see you," Skye said quietly, when suddenly someone to her left cleared his throat audibly.

Two men stood in the doorway, one of them shorter, dark haired, who must be Ethan Hunt. The other one...

"Luther?" Skye asked incredulously, turning away from Benji and stepping towards the large man. "I haven't seen you in ages, how are you?" She briefly turned back to Benji, smiling widely. "You didn't say that he was gonna be here."

"Hey, kiddo," Luther said with his deep voice full of something that could have been mistaken for happiness. He bumped his fist playfully into her shoulder.

"You've met?" Benji managed to say, but was ignored.

"And you must be Agent Hunt," she turned to her left to face him. "Skye Holt, pleasure. I've heard lots about you."

"Good things, I hope." Ethan smiled his trademark smile at her.

"Hardly. I once spent a week with Stickell here trapped in a bunker."

"Well, I guess this is my chance to redeem myself then," Ethan smirked. "This way, please." He stepped aside and guided her through to the main room where they had set up.

Benji, still standing in front of the door, was beginning to wonder whether this had been a good idea. He made to follow his friends when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder, holding him back. He met Luther's gaze.

"If you hurt that girl, I'll kill you."

Benji swallowed.


	25. Lost and Found (3)

"Don't you think that if they found you right in front of the vault room, he's moved whatever is inside? Speaking of which, what is inside?" Holt asked. Curiously she glanced at the game board in the middle of the table, but didn't say anything about the weird constellation of playing items – or the fact that there was a game of Cluedo set up in their hideout.

"A hard drive. We recently observed an exchange where it was handed over against a sum of money that seemed a little too high," Ethan said. "Anti-God and all that."

"Anti-God?" Skye asked, puzzled.

Benji blushed.

"Benji has this theory about the destruction of earth," Luther explained.

Skye frowned expectantly at the Brit.

He was caught off guard. "I used to have this professor, who, um... Well, he liked to talk about this idea of how technology would eventually overpower everything and..." His cheeks flushed even more. "Doesn't matter. I'll tell you some other time."

Her lips curled into a smile.

"Also I doubt they moved the hard drive," Ethan continued. "The safe is pretty indestructible, and they're lacking the time for a transport."

"So basically all we need is that guy's hand print?" Skye inquired, because she couldn't quite believe that the combination of Benjamin Dunn, Luther Stickell and Ethan Hunt had failed to acquire just that.

"Exactly," Ethan confirmed.

"Can't you hack into their system and upload someone else's hand print?"

"It's not always as simple as that, kid," Luther said, but with a smile on his face.

Skye shrugged at him and smiled back.

"It's out of the question," he got serious again. "Separate server, completely isolated system, titanium-proof-"

"Okay, I got it," Skye cut him off. "So say, we get that hand print, how do you plan on getting in?"

"Last time I went through the ventilation shaft," Ethan recounted. "Simple and classic."

Skye nodded knowingly, and somewhat approvingly, which amused Benji.

"But the plans we've taken from their own security system were wrong," the Brit explained to Skye. She focused her attention on him and suddenly Ethan and Luther felt strangely redundant. "Either they're smart enough to upload false plans for people like us, or, which I find much more likely, it was a simple mistake."

"This time I'll just surprise them without falling out of the ceiling," the team leader stated. "We've got that covered, the print is the only thing that's missing."

"So we drug him," she suggested with a shrugging motion.

"We had that," Luther threw in, but Hunt simply talked over him.

"We can't do that. He's never alone. He never leaves the house without his four bodyguards, and on top of that he basically never leaves the house at all."

"He's kind of nuts in that respect," Luther added.

"The only event we can go near him is when he's holding one of his receptions." Luther made a picture of a modern looking building appear on the screen. "His new gallery, opening tonight," Ethan continued, as the picture shifted to a three-dimensional graphic of the interior. "He's gonna be there and tonight is going to be the only chance."

"So if you're saying that we can't just discreetly knock him out and get him out of the way," she looked at Luther, "what is your plan?"

Benji looked at the floor.

"Well," Ethan began.

"Oh, I see," it finally dawned on her. "I'm going to be needing a dress, I guess."

"Good thing I planned ahead," Luther said and got up in order to cross the room to the corner where a couple of inconspicuous bags were lined up. He threw Holt a bundle of black fabric.

She caught it and held it out in front of her. "It looks kinda tight," she said, frowning.

"It has to be," Luther replied. "If there were any ruffles it wouldn't work. That dress is a prototype. It transmits the print straight to this little fella," he shook a tablet in front of the team, which he had also produced out of the bag, "and within a second we have access to the safe."

Holt rubbed the fabric between her fingers. "You mean he just has to touch the dress and that's it?"

"That's it, girl."

"Hold on a second," Benji commented on this unforeseen turn of events. He'd had a version in mind that was more among the lines of Beautiful Woman Lures Target Somewhere Dark and Quiet Where She Can Kick His Ass. No one had said anything about touching.

Skye just looked from Luther to Ethan, at the dress, and back to Luther. "That's brilliant," she acknowledged plainly. "So do you always carry short black dresses with you?"

Luther ignored her smirk. "I had assumed that we'd do it the smooth way right from the beginning. Only then it turned out that we were one woman short and Benji refused to wear it."

Benji opened his mouth indignantly. Only he couldn't think of any response.

Skye chuckled. "When do we leave?"

"An hour," Ethan decided.

"All right." She put the dress over her shoulder and picked up the grey sportsbag. "I'll be in the bathroom."

The moment she closed the door behind her, Ethan turned around to Benji with a huge grin on his face.

"What?" the techie asked.

"Were you planning on telling us?"

"Not that you could be more obvious," Luther said.

Their technician looked honestly confused. "What do you mean?"

"You and Skye," Ethan elaborated.

"What? We're just – we're friends."

There was a bit of silence filled with Benji being stared at by his team mates, before Luther finally said, "Yeah, right."

"No, really, we met again two weeks ago when the briefcase resurfaced and we spent a week covering our tracks when we tried to shake Caulfield off."

"Covering your tracks?" Ethan repeated incredulously.

"How did you crack her like that?" Luther wanted to know. "I haven't seen her this happy in ages. Last time I saw her she wouldn't even let anyone use her first name."

"It was a breeze after that, really," Benji smirked.

Ethan seemed to think of something. He got serious again. "That's not gonna cause trouble, is it?"

"What isn't?" Benji adopted his confused look from earlier again.

"The two of you, on the same team. The last thing we can use now is any kind of distraction."

"Of course not!" He sounded offended. Well, as offended as Benji could manage to sound if it didn't concern his computer skills.

"I don't know, man, about you and the kid," Luther said.

"We're just _friends._ And we've worked together before," Benji pointed out.

"He's right," Ethan supported, apparently already convinced. "After all it was these two who managed to recover the documents that now keep half the IMF busy taking down what's left of Davian."

Ethan knew about what had happened, mainly from Benji's excited tales of his last two missions, but also because he had read the reports. He'd felt a bit guilty when he had seen the cast on his friend's arm, because he had been convinced he'd assigned Benji a nice quiet mission with that protection job in Toronto, and not triggered the possibly biggest job since Shanghai. Not that he doubted Benji's abilities as a field agent. He had just thought it would be nice, after Ghost Protocol, to get used to the field in a way that was a bit less... End of the World.

But it had turned out fine, he told himself, and considering Agent Holt he had probably done Benji a favour. It was obvious that the techie had a thing for her. And vice versa, as far as he could tell.

Luther looked at Ethan knowingly, something that Benji misinterpreted as remaining doubt.

"Plus, it's not like I could do anything while being locked inside a van."

"You're not gonna be in the van," Ethan said. "We need you on the inside."

"Wait, what? I thought you would -"

"Theoretically it doesn't matter which one of us is at the computer," Luther admitted. "But think about it, Benji. We can't pull the thing with the bodyguard again, and we're in Sweden. Who is going to be less remarkable: me or the blond guy?"

The Brit looked from him to Ethan. "So what am I supposed to do, exactly?"

"You're our back-up in case one of us needs assistance." Ethan grinned widely. "You're the helper."

In that moment the bathroom door opened and Skye reappeared. Benji's eyes grew wide. He'd known that she was attractive, but he had never seen her like this before. She had tidied up her hair, letting it fall in soft waves onto her shoulders which made it look light and feathery. Enhanced by make-up her eyes looked incredibly big, and there was a trace of green in them that he had never noticed before. Also she had been right: The dress did not only look tight, it was. Ending a bit above her knees it was still long enough to look elegant. Then again it might have been made for taller people, so one couldn't tell if that was actually intended.

"I'm not sure about the shoes," she said, putting a black pair of unadorned high heels on the table which she had dug out of her own bag. They looked almost plain, but the red soles caught a slight gleam in the light. "But I guess these will have to do. Although I'd kind of hoped I'd never have to wear these again."

"Believe me," Luther said, "no one is gonna look at your shoes. You might wanna close your mouth," he added in Benji's direction. For a split second he looked at Luther and took his advice before looking back at Skye.

"You look stunning," he said. He noticed the small scar on her shoulder that was not entirely visible under the strap of the dress.

Skye blushed slightly. "Thank you."

"You were saying about distraction?" Luther muttered to their team leader.

"Stun him is exactly what we had in mind," Ethan ignored his friend, leaning back over the board game that was still set up between them. "Now, the plan..."


	26. Lost and Found (4)

"It's the best big band in the country, I can promise you that," Moritz Christensen went on to the group that had formed around him and two of his bodyguards. "A band like this - I don't know if that's just me, but it always has something dramatic, don't you think? Excellence is something I _value_ , and this concerns every aspect of life, not just entertainment – if you know what I mean."

While his audience chuckled at his remark, someone huffed loudly behind him. He turned around. A woman in a well-fitted black cocktail dress was leaning casually against the bar.

"Don't you think?"

"I _beg_ to differ," she said in Swedish, turning just the slightest bit towards him. "Sweden can do better than that. The pianist and the bass player are quite good, I'll give you these, but the horn section is weak. They shouldn't be allowed to play Sinatra."

He grinned, dismissing his audience by positioning himself next to her, one elbow resting on the bar.

A native beauty. Something that happened way too infrequently. He switched languages as well. "Moritz Christensen. I'm responsible for... all this." He made a general gesture.

She turned her head slightly, sizing him up. "Birgitta Enquist." She sounded incredibly bored. Probably because she was married to someone incredibly boring. If he wasn't mistaken he had seen her come in with a man, but he was nowhere to be seen. And he couldn't see a ring on her finger, so there was hope.

He grinned smugly. "Would you care for a drink, Miss Enquist?"

She appeared to be a bit surprised, looked at him as if she only now realised that she was having a conversation, but he was almost sure that it was just show. He liked that. And she didn't correct the 'Miss'.

"Vodka tonic."

/\/\/\/\

"How is she doing?" Benji asked. He stood watching Skye and Christensen from a safe distance near the buffet, not paying attention to any of the paintings or sculptures that were scattered over the wide hall and apparently supposed to be art.

" _She's doing just fine,"_ Ethan said contentedly. " _Diamond, I'm in position_."

" _Alarms are out. Ready to receive,"_ Luther said. This time he was set up in the van outside.

There was a slight chewing noise in the comm. "The egg rolls are amazing."

" _Focus, Sapphire,"_ Ethan said.

"I am focusing, it's just not exactly easy to – hang on, they're moving."

The band began with a too slow version of _Where or When,_ but at least the horn section finally seemed to wake up.

"They're on the dance floor," Benji said, and found he had to swallow a bitter emotion he wasn't accustomed to.

A couple of hushed "Come On"s could be heard from Luther, but other than that nothing happened.

Helplessly Benji had to endure watching Skye dance with their target. She looked very graceful in her movements, and, much to his dismay, so did Christensen. The only thing that kept Benji from babbling away were the mini egg rolls he kept eating. He didn't like this at all, to say the least, and he couldn't even complain about it because he had brought her here in the first place. The fingernails of his left hand dug into his palm inside the pocket of his suit.

" _I got it,"_ Luther declared after several eternities. _"Emerald, you're good to go."_

" _Sapphire, that's your cue,"_ Ethan said, and couldn't suppress a grin when he unlocked the room holding the safe with professional laxity.

This time, they hadn't bothered with the ventilation system; a tuxedo allowed Ethan to move invisibly among the formally dressed security guards after he'd come in with Skye, and a bunch of tranq darts had done the trick concerning the increased security detail.

Benji wouldn't have needed their team leader to say anything, he was already in motion.

The song ended, and most people stopped dancing to applaud, but Christensen didn't seem to have any intentions of letting Skye go.

"Have we met before?" Christensen asked, piercing his dancing partner with his bright blue eyes.

"Please," Miss Enquist said. She was a swift dancer, and while she had seemed a bit out of practice at the beginning of the song, she had adjusted to his steps within seconds.

"Oh, I'm not flirting, if that's what you're implying." Another smug grin was thrown at her, and in a way he regretted the foot of height difference between them. Still, he wouldn't give up as easily as that. Never interrupting his smile, he continued, "You look familiar to me."

The woman looked up at him, and for a second a strange expression darkened her face, before she gave him the sweetest of smiles. Somehow this just increased the feeling of recognition he had.

"I doubt it," she said. "I've lived abroad for some time."

He'd thought there was a trace of accent in her Swedish, but more in a way of not being used to speaking the language regularly, not in terms of non-native-speaker. He was only too well accustomed to that himself. He gave her another sympathetic smile, the facial equivalent of a dismissive shrug. "I must have thought of another beautiful woman then. Although these have been all too rare in my life over the past months."

"I'm afraid you've let the song get to you too much."

He chuckled, but her smile looked reserved, and Christensen could feel his chances shrink when she didn't quite push him away, but determinedly kept her distance as he attempted to pull her closer.

/\/\/\/\

" _I got it,"_ Luther finally said. _"Emerald, you're good to go."_

Skye had to contain herself in order not to send Christensen tumbling into another couple in mid-song.

" _Sapphire, that's your cue."_

Mentally counting the seconds until she could let go, she forced herself to smile. She was an excellent actor, she reminded herself, her abilities were not going to desert her now. He'd buy it. In a way, Agent Holt found, one had to be impressed by the man in some respects. Apart from the neatly dressed up security staff scattered everywhere around the crowd, no one would have a single reason to suspect that just yesterday he had been assaulted in the most disturbing way. She wasn't sure how she would react if her own bodyguard suddenly existed twice while at the same time someone tried to rob you.

Without warning a cold shudder went down her spine. In the same moment the music stopped, and it took the agent a second to comprehend that it was because the song had ended. Quickly she remembered her smile, and withdrew her hand from him by brushing her hair behind her ear. "I have to go," she excused herself.

"Oh really?" She almost bought his disappointment. "Miss Enquist, one more song. You're a fantastic dancer. Please."

"I'm sorry, I really have to-"

"Then at least let me get you another drink."

The band started again, this time with _Let's Face the Music and Dance_ , and Skye managed to maneuver them to the edge of the dance floor.

"That's a very tempting offer, but-"

"It _is_ a tempting offer, so why not take it? I'd be delighted."

Skye started to run out of excuses and was about to just leave him standing, when suddenly - "There you are!" - a familiar face appeared out of the crowd. "Running off like this, it's like I don't know you at all."

Skye could barely suppress a grin. Benji was obviously enjoying this. Exhibit A: a French accent for no reason at all. He did these kind of things simply for the fun of it. She liked that about him.

"Now," Benji turned to Christensen, "if you'll excuse us, this lady still – _comment est-ce qu'on dit_ – owes me a dance, _non_?"

Skye took the hand he offered her, stepping out of Christensen's immediate reach. With an apologetic smile she shrugged at the host. "Some other time maybe," she said to him without switching back to Swedish, and a second later Benji had gotten her out of sight and back onto the dance floor.

"A second later and I would have smashed his smile in," she grinned.

"Shame I was on time, then," he smiled back. Dancing with Skye was something that came strangely unexpected, but contrary to certain prior experiences of this sort he realised he was really enjoying it.

"Why French?" she asked over the music.

"Apparently he hates the French. I thought I'd give him a reason."

"Neat," she appreciated, and gave him another smile.

" _You know I can see where your hands are, right?"_ Luther's voice sounded out of the blue.

Benji actually flinched away, and Skye had to catch his wrist to keep him from moving.

"His hands are right where they should be," she said matter-of-factly.

/\/\/\/\

Ethan managed to ignore the ongoing conversation over the comm link. He locked the door behind him again to ensure that he would be undisturbed for the time being, and set to work. A pleasant authorising sound confirmed that their plan had worked when he uploaded the hand print. With a smirk, Hunt placed the flat silver ring around the combination lock. While it got in motion with a whirring sound to take care of the remaining security measure, the agent had a look around.

Contrary to his expectations based on other vault rooms he'd broken into over the course of his career, it was very nicely furnished. It was small, but the thick carpet and padded armchair made it look quite homey. A couple of heavy books rested on the side table, and pictures with maritime motives contributed to the decoration.

One wall was dominated by a terrarium, illuminated with green tinted light from cleverly placed lamps. Curious, the agent took a closer look to perhaps spot its inhabitant between the multitude of plants and branches, but before he saw anything the whirring stopped, and with a nice click – one of his favourite sounds – the safe swung open half an inch.

"This is Emerald," he said, exchanging the contents with an exact duplicate from his inside pocket. Exact – with the small malpractice that it was blank. "Hard drive is secured."


	27. Lost and Found (5)

The Turning Torso was at 190 metres the highest skyscraper in Scandinavia. It looked kind of lonely, standing alone surrounded by much smaller houses, but also very impressive, being illuminated against the blackness of the night.

Ethan couldn't help wondering whether it was harder to scale than the Burj Khalifa, with its effect of seeming to turn around itself. Then he quickly shook off the thought. No way he was ever gonna do that again. He turned away from the window and back to his team.

"Well, it's definitely a pepper-box revolver," Skye said, sitting on the table and examining the small pistol token from the Cluedo box. Her shoes lay kicked off on the floor, light gleaming on the red lacquered soles. Benji was visibly amused by her mock-serious answer to a question Ethan had missed. "I'm not sure about the model, though. I think it's called Allen & Something."

Luther meanwhile was already at his computer, inspecting the contents of the hard drive.

"The real question is, how can you have two secret passage ways in your house like this," Benji motioned at the board. "How do you explain that?"

Skye chuckled. "I bet they come with secret entrances behind bookshelves."

"Definitely," Benji carried on, "and every time you want to use them you need a keyword or something."

"Keyword?" Skye repeated curiously.

"Yeah, like a code or something, so that they open."

Skye was about to respond, when Luther announced, "We have a problem."

Ethan raised his eyebrows and caught Luther's gaze.

"First of all, this data is not what we thought it was about."

"What?" Ethan pushed himself off the windowsill and went to stand with Luther.

"Not a word about any deals or transactions."

"What does it say?" Benji asked.

"These are just listings," Luther said. "Inventories. And I don't think I like the contents."

Everyone looked at him expectantly.

"They've got tons of weapons and drugs, but what really concerns me is this." He motioned at something on the screen which only Ethan could see.

"Mask machines?" the team leader said.

"That's right."

"Masks?" Benji said, getting up as well to stand on Luther's other side. "As in IMF?"

Luther nodded gravely. "As far as I can see, they've got quite a lot of things they shouldn't have. This is way too big for the jokers we were after."

"That looks really familiar for some reason," Benji said and looked at Skye, but her attention remained with Luther.

"It's at least a dozen locations in as many countries. Lots of it is encrypted, it's going to take me some time. The good news is, we know where _this_ is." Again, Luther pointed at something on screen. "It's hard to believe, but this whole part here is all about one single location, a warehouse in Hamburg."

"Hamburg?" From one moment to the next, Skye sounded strangely alarmed.

Benji searched her face and found she looked as if something had just snapped into place.

She got up from the table. "Can you find out who owns that real estate?"

"Sure." Luther took out his phone.

"What about Hamburg?" Ethan asked intrigued.

Skye however turned to Benji. "That's got to be it! The headquarters I've been talking about, that's where Nolan's got to be, I'm sure of it."

"Nolan?" Ethan asked.

Benji was caught up in her excitement, although he wasn't entirely sure he could follow. "What makes you think -" He stopped in mid-sentence when it occurred to him.

"Atwood," they said simultaneously.

"Mind letting us in?" Luther inquired after hanging up, sounding a bit annoyed, or maybe bored, with him it was hard to tell.

"The man who transported the documents that led to the huge op around Kennedy Ltd. is called Marcus Atwood," Skye explained. "Benji and I tracked him down in Denmark where we recovered the papers."

Ethan nodded to show that he was aware of that.

"When we checked him there was absolutely nothing remarkable about him - aside from carrying sensitive materials with no apparent connection. But," she continued, "he lives and works in Hamburg."

"These files," Benji motioned at the computer, "they're from the same system as the ones we recovered. But wait," he interrupted himself. "That would mean that Christensen is in with Nolan."

"Either that or he's after him just as we are," Ethan said. "Considering all the money he put down for the hard drive."

Skye shook her head. "He's one of them. I bet he just bought the information to get them off the market."

A deed of ownership opened on Luther's laptop.

"Kid's right," he said. "Marcus Atwood, right here."

Ethan and Benji looked over either of his shoulders to see the name for themselves.

Skye stayed where she was and couldn't quite decide whether she should smile or not. "They needed someone inconspicuous to own the thing so that no one would disturb them. It makes perfect sense."

Benji started nodding. "Considering what they have amassed there, it certainly looks like something big. Works with Hamburg, maybe they ship their stuff."

"So it's their storage area," Luther concluded.

"Don't you see," Skye persisted. "This is where Nolan sat everything out. I just know it. He's there."

For a moment they were all silent.

"Trust me."

Ethan straightened and crossed his arms over his chest. Then a grin spread over his face. "Luther, get us some tickets. We're going to Germany."

/\/\/\/\

"We had everything planned out perfectly, Declan was supposed to chat her up and get into her room to replace the necklace with a counterfeit, and the rest of us would simply stand by as back-up. Only then his earpiece failed, but he was already in position down in the lobby and we wouldn't have a chance like that very soon again, so since we still had time, one of us went down to bring him the replacement. Crude, I know, but it seemed all right at the time. Now, Connor had made the delivery, turned around to go back to our hide-out, and ran _directly_ into the target."

"He didn't," Ethan commented.

Skye carried on. "Yes, he did. I sat in front of the monitor and couldn't do anything but stare, he had run straight into her, and she had spilled her drink all over her shirt. If it hadn't been so horrible I would have laughed, you should have seen Gormley's face. Then he started to apologise really awkwardly, and I honestly thought everything was lost. Only, she was really going for him."

"What?" Benji chuckled disbelievingly.

"Yeah, he kept fussing about her shirt and how he'd buy her a new drink, like he completely forgot about the mission, and the next thing we know is that he's in her room."

"No way," Ethan said through his wide grin.

"In the end, she was so _distracted_ that Gormley actually sneaked into her room while they were busy with each other, and Zhen and I had silenced our radios because we were laughing so hard."

Benji noticed the name that had slipped her, but still laughed along with the others. He felt a bit weird being around three agents that were at home in the field, who had been out there for years, and while by now he wouldn't call himself a rookie anymore he was still sort of the new guy. But the part of him that loved to hear about missions was too strong to leave him time to feel like an outsider.

"So how did you guys meet?" Ethan asked.

"We were breaking into the same server room," Benji said.

"That's the most romantic thing I've ever heard," Luther dead-panned.

Ethan cracked up, and his laugh was infectious so that in the end even Luther laughed along.

/\/\/\/\

Their base was a small two-room apartment on the fifth floor of a mostly deserted house. Skye threaded the laces of her black combat boots through the last hook and pulled tightly. Benji watched her. She noticed and smiled at him, which made him smile back.

"Be careful, all right?"

Skye smirked. "Are you gonna say that to Ethan, too?"

"With you I stand at least a slight chance that you'll listen to me. With him..." He made a throwing-away gesture.

Skye noticed that he was serious beneath the cover of his joke. "Hey, we'll just set up a couple of cameras and see what's going on. Nothing dangerous."

Ethan joined them from across the room where Luther had outfitted his bag with the needed gear. Somewhat disproving her statement, he handed her a gun which she tucked into her belt. "Good to go?"

"Let's do this."

/\/\/\/\

"Can I ask you something?" Benji said once they were alone in the flat. They were sitting at the kitchen counter, a cup of tea and coffee in front of them respectively. Luther was setting up the software for when the cameras would go online.

"Shoot," Luther answered without looking up from the screen.

Benji played around with the teabag. "You and Skye know each other, right?"

"What are you getting at?"

"Did you know Agent Mathison?"

Luther turned around to him. Benji felt caught for some reason.

"You didn't find much about him in the data base, did you." It wasn't a question. Luther knew him too well.

"I..."

"I knew Connor," Luther began. "Bright kid. He and Skye pulled off the Eleonora Mission, on that huge container ship, and they saved a lot of asses back then. I don't know if it got all the way to you guys in the cellar – no offense, man," he interrupted himself.

Benji waved his hand to show that none had been taken. Basically everything worth telling stories about had taken place before his days as a field agent. Well, almost everything. A grin stole on his face when Luther continued in his relaxed way.

"Back then they got some fame as this sort of duo. They were one hell of a team, you gotta know: Skye was freshly back in town from her solo op in Monte Carlo, and Connor had just taken down the hotshot who attempted to bomb about half of Europe's capitals on the same day, and that was when they were thrown together on the ship job, which was a huge success. For some time, they were pretty famous among insiders."

Benji had nodded a couple of times to show that he knew about the operations Luther was talking about. After all he had read a lot of reports. He even recalled having heard about them at the time, but never about the respective agents. Back then he'd been busy decrypting hard drives and the like, down in the cellar, as the older technician had put it.

"That is, until yours truly took down Owen Davian." Luther leaned back in his seat and smirked.

As did Benji, when he replied, "Hey, Ethan and I had a part in that one, too."

"If you choose to believe that."

Benji got serious again. "So, you and Skye go way back?"

"You really wanna know it, don't ya?" Luther shook his head. "I met the kid a couple of years ago after a mutual friend of ours had died."

Benji raised his eyebrows.

"Agent Laurie," Luther elaborated with an indecipherable expression.

"The plane crash," Benji realised.

"Yeah," Luther confirmed. "Anyway, we met again about a year ago, a couple of months after Mathison had died. It was like she was a different person. Still very professional, no doubt, but it was like she'd taken a vow of silence. She wouldn't speak to me – or anyone - unless she absolutely had to. But you get talking eventually when you're trapped together thirty feet underground for an unknown period of time – long story, and a boring one," he brushed the question away that Benji clearly was about to ask. "It was obvious that it had hit her hard. That last job they had together, that must have been one of the big ones. Top notch classification. So that's probably not helping either. I don't know if there was something going on between them, but they were pretty close after all they've been through. Naturally."

Luther shrugged and Benji pondered his words for a while. The light from the computer screens mixed with the warm sunset pouring in. He remembered how Skye had said that she'd never talked about Connor's death before Toronto. He couldn't quite grasp that someone would choose to live like that, all on your own, keeping everything to yourself. But no one could deny the change that Luther had pointed out first thing he'd seen her. Benji smiled when he recalled his choice of words. That he'd cracked her. Maybe Luther was right.

"One thing I can tell you," the other techie interrupted his thoughts. "You've got yourself one hell of a story-teller."

Benji smiled. "I know."


	28. Lost and Found (6)

"Something the matter?" Ethan asked when he realised that Holt kept glancing at him.

"No, nothing," she said. "Just... is it true what they say about Langley?"

Ethan chuckled. "Is it true that you pulled off Monte Carlo all by yourself?"

Skye smirked and turned her focus back to their task, installing the small camera in a strategically auspicious spot.

"I'm sorry, by the way," Ethan said, but never stopped grinning.

"What for?"

"Thanks to me you had to spend three months in witness protection back in the day. I never got around to apologising that it took me so long to find them."

"That was you?" Skye tried to hide her surprise. Then she smiled again. "Well, anyone else and it most likely would have taken a year."

"Most likely," Ethan agreed. He adjusted the small camera one more time.

They already had the toughest part behind them, familiarising themselves with the ground, or rather, water. The warehouse in question was part of Hamburg's famous Speicherstadt, located directly at the river. The opposite building had been discreetly broken and entered in order to install more cameras. Now they were on the street side, walking through still cold March weather for one last camera.

"That should do," Hunt said. In response Skye took out her phone to send the message to their tech department.

Something was nagging Ethan. Something about Skye. How had she worked that out? The connection between Nolan and Christensen with the rather broad location of Hamburg as the only apparent link? It seemed a bit too lucky for a guess.

"You really think Nolan is here?" he said.

Skye looked back at the warehouse before they crossed the bridge back into the old town. "I hope so."

"You hope?"

She sighed. "By now I just want him to stand for everything. To drag him out of his hiding. Davian did what he did out in the open, basically; but we didn't even know what Nolan looked like."

Ethan considered this. "When you do, leave a piece for me."

Holt looked at him, slightly surprised.

"Any associate of Davian is unfinished business of mine." For a second the image of Julia flashed before his eyes, tied to a chair, crying, saying his name over and over again while he was helplessly down on the floor, held in place by excruciating pain from the charge in his head.

He pushed the thought away, and instead made eye contact with Holt. He didn't believe in putting things off by leaving them unspoken. "How did you work out the connection to Christensen so fast?"

She hesitated for a beat, shoving her hands in the pockets of her jacket. "This mission feels different. Maybe it's because I haven't had anything this big in a while, but it doesn't let go. It's all I think about. They would destroy the IMF. That can't happen."

Ethan nodded, because it made sense. Being in total grip of a mission – he knew that only too well. Also he suspected that Benji being involved had a part in this, too. But that nagging feeling was still there.

"Here we are." They had reached a crossroad. "See you in a bit."

"Stay on guard," he said before they split up.

Skye went back to their base.

He went to get new intel.

/\/\/\/\

Luther's phone chimed with in incoming message. He hardly so much as glanced at it, then he pressed a few keys and they were live.

"Doesn't look like much from the outside," Benji observed.

"Part of the game."

"What are you doing?" he inquired when he saw the other techie charm up a flash drive.

"Making a copy of the data we've got so far. Just in case."

Benji was watching the percentage bar appear on screen counting up to a hundred with medium speed when the older agent turned to him again, doing so in such a conspiratorial manner that Benji involuntarily leaned a bit towards him as well.

Meaningfully, with his deep voice at its very base Luther said, "Always make a copy."

/\/\/\/\

"A team of sweepers is on their way as reinforcement," the familiar voice sounded out of the phone that had turned into a source of new orders from HQ once Ethan had entered his access codes. "But it's gonna be you and your team to ensure the place is clear of opponents in order to seize the evidence you are bound to find there. And as always: Should you or any member of your team be caught or killed, the secretary will disavow any knowledge of your actions. Good luck, Agent Hunt."

Ethan already lowered the phone from his head, barely catching the usual _This message will self-destruct in five seconds_ , and made sure no one was around. Then he threw the device away from him.

It flew in an elegant bow, at the top of which Hunt heard a faint crackling that told him the miniature charge had detonated and therefore destroyed every proof the message had ever existed, before it plunged into the Elbe. By the time the water had calmed, the agent was nowhere to be seen.

/\/\/\/\

"It's gonna be fun," the team leader ended the explanation of what they were expected to do.

"Please don't try to be ironic, Ethan," Luther complained. "Bad things happen when you try that. You still remember the mess when you bought the TVR Chimaera? 'cause I do, and I swear to god that was the last time I got you out of a burning car."

"Don't worry, Luther."

"And it was ugly."

"As you kept pointing out."

"Because I was right."

Skye intervened, "It's four of us, we can take them."

"I don't know about you, but last time I checked we were not here for sightseeing," Luther grumbled.

"He's just bothered that we don't have cameras on the inside," Benji explained soothingly, but he was frowning himself. "We can't say for sure how many are in there."

"I don't know why we're even discussing this," Ethan said, on the verge of losing his confident smile. "Four trained agents, plus the element of surprise, plus back-up on the way." He looked at each of them, trying to eliminate all doubts. When his glance met Skye, she shrugged approvingly in his direction.

"They're toast," she said.

Benji smiled quietly.

"We'll leave as soon as it gets dark," Ethan concluded matter-of-factly.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The high brick houses lining the river looked beautiful this time of day. The tasteful illumination alongside the facades charmed pretty reflections on the dark water, only to be disturbed by one of the boats that offered city tours on the river. The sky was slowly settling on a velvety dark-blue after letting the pinks and oranges of the sunset fade out. The guide's voice, enhanced by speakers, gradually decreased in volume when he and the boatload of tourists vanished, making their exit back into Hamburg's harbour.

On the other side of the building a lock was picked and a code sequence overridden, granting access to four dark-clad figures. Not far in, after making sure the staircase was clear, Ethan motioned directions at them. Short nods conveyed understanding, then they split up. Skye and Benji would start downstairs, while Ethan and Luther would take the upper floors.

Everything was silent. If you listened closely, you could hear the water splash rhythmically against the walls outside. No lights were turned on.

Maybe they were lucky and the building was empty for the night, Benji thought when he stopped short at the sight of what looked like jail cells along the corridor. The doors had been removed and instead been trellised, electronic code-locks glowed ghostly through the half-light. The consoles looked bigger than they had to be. Benji stepped closer to examine the mechanism. He had seen this type of security system before; it was designed to shut down completely if damaged, effectively preventing escapes.

He exchanged a glance with Skye. Then they moved forward, checking all three of the cells, but all of them were empty. One floor up, something made a noise, as if something heavy had been dropped. The two agents looked up.

Skye touched her earpiece. "Echo, Lima, was that you?" She waited for five seconds. It was unlikely that it had been there team mates, they were supposed to be higher up. "I'll go check, you take this floor," she whispered, and Benji nodded, already turning around to move further down the hallway when he suddenly felt Skye take his hand, holding him back. She reached up and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"For luck," she explained.

"Did you just...?"

She simply flashed a smile at him, and started back in the opposite direction, to the staircase.

Benji felt warm.

/\/\/\/\

Ethan was the first of the team to actually encounter someone. He and Luther had split up again as well. A thin line of light was falling through a door that stood a crack ajar. He pressed himself against the wall, glancing into the room.

Two men, hurriedly talking to each other - as far as he could tell unarmed, but either way no match for him. Hunt was about to enter, when he realised what they were saying.

" _Jemand ist hier. Du weißt, was das heißt?"_

" _Ist das dein Ernst?"_

" _Wir müssen. Und zwar jetzt."_

" _Und was ist mit dem ganzen Zeug?"_

" _Er hat gesagt das ist egal. Wir haben keine Zeit mehr."_

Ethan didn't like the way that sounded.

/\/\/\/\

Down in the basement Benji opened the last remaining door, and again was met with nothing but darkness. When he eventually turned on the lights he could see that the room was stuffed with crates and boxes, all the way up to the ceiling. There wasn't much room for anyone to hide. The agent made his way around the room, this time aided by light, but he was pretty sure he was alone. He was about to leave and make his way up to Skye on the storage level when something caught his eye and he stopped short.

Benji was so shocked by what he saw that for the whole of ten seconds he did nothing but stand and stare. Then, he started working.


	29. Lost and Found (7)

There was no way of inconspicuously entering this room, which was why Ethan kicked open the door so forcefully that it was nearly knocked off its hinges and fired the first shot, taking out one of the guys that had been talking. Only then he noticed that the room was wider than it had looked from the outside – and the two guys had not been alone after all.

He fired a second time and managed to take out one more, before two of them started towards him. The opponent tried to restrain Hunt's arms, which resulted in Ethan having to let go of his gun, but also seizing the opportunity to knock his elbow into the other guy's face. He let out a moan and stumbled backwards, clasping his bleeding nose.

" _Jetzt!_ " someone shouted, through the fight.

Ethan smashed the second one into one of the others, which sent both of them tumbling. He fell, hit his head on the windowsill behind him and took the other one down with him, pinning him to the floor with his weight.

The bleeding nose had apparently recovered. Grabbing the agent's collar from behind was however not a smart thing to do, for Hunt reacted instinctively, hurled around, twisting the attackers arm in the process, and kicked him in the stomach. The elicited cough was immediately muffled by a kick at his knee, which sent him to the floor, and one finishing bash in the head. He stayed down.

The others were meanwhile stunned or trying to escape. Ethan reached for the first weapon he could get his hands on, which happened to be a chair. The piece of furniture crashed with considerable clamour to the floor, taking another man down with it.

The last one standing seemed to get brave all of a sudden and hurled himself onto Ethan with such determination that both of them fell to the floor. If the goon had managed to stay that way long enough he would probably have succeeded in strangling the agent, as it appeared to be his intention judging from the hands around the other's throat, but he had forgotten about the gun on the floor that was now conveniently within Ethan's reach. He never even saw the man pick up the firearm before his grip suddenly loosened and Hunt got back on his feet, looking around. Two guys under the window, one under the chair, one knocked out behind him, two dead on the floor.

Only he was pretty sure he had counted seven.

/\/\/\/\

" _Was zum Teufel?!"_ Benji heard behind him, and a second later someone pointed a gun to his neck. Instinctively the agent turned around, seizing the other man's wrist in order to get the gun in a practised move. But the other one was faster. He went along with Benji's move but dropped the gun to the floor. A shot went off when it met the ground, only hitting a random crate, but enough to divert Benji's attention for a second. A powerful right hook met his eye, and he took a step sideways. Then Agent Dunn felt a sharp blow to his head, and before he could help it he found himself tumbling towards the floor while everything went black around him.

/\/\/\/\

Skye tread carefully. The wide room reminded her unpleasantly of the one in Toronto where Philipp Nolan had last been seen. Maybe large unfurnished rooms were his taste. Her eyes scanned for something that could have caused a noise loud enough for them to hear one floor down.

Several mask machines were stacked next to crates and boxes that stood in a cluster a bit away from her. She got closer, never letting go of her gun. They were labelled, apparently ready to be shipped. To Washington D.C. She bent down to decipher the rest of the tag in the half-light.

D.C.? Why not Toronto? And what was that... Skye inhaled when she suddenly understood what her mistake had been. She was about to call Benji on the comm link, but then she heard running. Several people were running down the stairs behind her. A gunshot fell. Skye took cover, but after only a few seconds everything was silent again. What the hell was that?

Then something clicked sharply in her ear, and the radio kicked in.

" _Sierra, Bravo, do you read?_ " Luther shouted.

"Copy," Skye said quickly.

" _Targets on the move,_ " he continued, apparently he was running. " _Something's wrong. Get out of there, rendezvous as planned._ "

"Acknowledged," Skye said flustered.

" _Bravo, acknowledge,_ " Luther added to no avail.

Maybe something on the lower level was scrambling the reception. No one had answered her either earlier, before she'd come up here. "I'll go get him," Skye said, when the radio emitted a high-pitched screech and then broke up completely.

/\/\/\/\

When the image of Skye's smile faded, Benji realised he was waking up. Around him was a strange half-light. He heaved himself up. Why was his head pounding? He reached up into his hair, which helped for some reason, and got a look around.

The room was empty and small, the door had been removed and instead been trellised. He was in one of the cells they'd passed earlier. And he was alone. Benji got to his feet. Then he remembered, as clearly as if someone had punched him in the face... which was in fact the case. His eye was throbbing. But he had to warn the others. He had to find a way out of here.

"Guys?" he tried the comm, but only then he noticed that his earpiece was missing. Either they had taken it, or he'd lost it when he had been knocked out. None of that mattered now.

He checked his watch, only to realise that that didn't tell him what he wanted to know most: How much time was left? Closely followed by: How could he warn the others in time? He was still pondering that second question when he suddenly heard footsteps approaching.

/\/\/\/\

"Benji!" Holt exclaimed when she saw who was in the cell. "I'm so glad I found you, the radio broke up all of a sudden, something's interfering."

"Skye," he said, with a strange mixture of surprise and horror.

"What happened?" she wanted to know, already examining the electronic lock.

"You have to get out of here," he suddenly urged, stepping closer to the bars.

"What are you talking about, I'm gonna get you out," she said, shaking her head disbelievingly.

"Where are the others?" Benji asked, and something in his voice sounded as if he was thinking frantically, desperately even.

"The people in here suddenly started running. Ethan and Luther are after two of them, they said we'd meet up outside before the radio broke up." She took out her gun. "Step back."

"Wait! If you shoot this, it's gonna trigger an alarm and we'll be sealed inside the building." Something flashed in Benji's eyes. "Luther can hack this one, he knows the codes."

"How?" Holt lowered her weapon and looked back at him. Something was bothering her about his whole demeanour.

"We hacked this place all over while you were out," he explained hurriedly. "We were bored, that's what we do," he added at her suspicious glance. "You have to go get him and I'll be out of here in no time." He smiled, but something about it felt forced.

Skye wasn't convinced, but tucked the gun away. "Can't you tell me what to do, and I'll do it?"

"No, I need Luther for this one," he said. "Please?" His smile widened.

"Okay," she said finally. "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere," she added playfully, but something about this felt... off.

"And hurry," he called after her when she had already started down the corridor.

Something in his voice made her want to turn back around this instant, but she pushed the thought away, telling herself that she was paranoid. It would be no use to stand there with him, pointlessly attacking an all too solid lock until either Hunt or Stickell had the mercy to come looking for them or the comm link would miraculously return to functioning.

Slowly, she broke into a run.

/\/\/\/\

Benji tried to imprint this last image of Skye into his mind. The way her small smile lay on her lips when she'd told him not to go anywhere.

He prayed that there was still enough time.

/\/\/\/\

Luther had fallen behind and eventually returned to their meeting point a bit down the street from the warehouse. Only a couple of minutes later, Ethan joined him.

"He just vanished," he said, still a bit out of breath. Mostly he looked annoyed. "Those people know their way around."

Luther was about to answer, when Skye came running towards them.

"I lost them," Ethan answered a question she wasn't about to ask.

"Where's Benji?" Luther inquired.

"They caught him before they bailed," she said, catching her breath. "He's locked up inside. He said you had the codes to the cells."

Luther answered her expectant look with the closest he could get to confusion. "What codes?"

"What?"

"I don't have any codes."

"But – then why did he want me to get you?"

Ethan looked back at the building, then turned to his team again.

For a second they just exchanged glances, one after the other being struck by the situation.

"What?" she asked alarmed. "What is it?"

Neither of them cared to say anything, but she didn't wait two seconds to receive an answer.

Luther was the first to react when Skye started back towards the building. He reached her and managed to hold her back.

"What are you doing?" she shouted, trying to get free, but he was stronger.

"Skye, going back there could be-"

In that moment, the slight shock wave of an explosion caused them to stagger. Something underneath them rumbled, like an earthquake, but it only lasted a few seconds.

Ethan steadied himself on the side of the car. "Get back here right now!" he called out to them.

"Skye!" Luther shouted.

Skye looked at the building, refusing to move despite Luther's grip. It looked somehow shaken, but no damage was visible. But she had felt something going off, so what had happened? In that moment they were pressed to the ground, a thundering noise ripped the air, accompanied by a sudden wave of heat. Luther held her down, they could feel debris raining down around them. A second bomb had been triggered.

 _It's okay._

No. No, not now.

A car had stopped in front of them, a protection between them and the explosion. Hunt got out, wordlessly making sure they were okay. They got up, dust on their clothes. Luther and Ethan pressed themselves against the side of the car, but Holt got around it instead to see what had happened.

The upper half of the building was gone. Smoke and dust clouds were hovering over the remainders of walls. Water splashed high when the last part of the back wall broke off and fell into the canal. Flakes of ash were sailing through the air.

 _Don't come back. It's okay._

Screeching tires were to be heard in the distance, then a heavy silence settled.

"Benji?" Hunt asked pointlessly into the comm.

Skye didn't even notice the two men stepping next to her.

"Benji, come in."

"Shit," Luther said, his voice muffled.

Skye didn't say anything. The comm had gone dead.


	30. Lost and Found (8)

None of them was entirely sure how they had gotten back to their safe house.

When sirens had begun to sound Ethan had decided heavy-heartedly to leave it to the sweepers and get out of there before anyone started asking questions. Also, he didn't want Skye to find something she probably shouldn't see.

"We should call headquarters," Luther quietly suggested.

"Yes," Ethan agreed, more breathing the word than actually speaking.

It made Luther uncomfortable to see Hunt like this. Many times he had seen his best friend in extreme situations, but he would never grow accustomed to seeing him so finished.

"I'll do it."

Ethan looked at him as if he only now realised that Luther was talking to him. "No. No, you're right, it was my... so I should... sorry. I'll... I'll call."

"Okay." They both stared in silence for a couple of seconds, then Ethan took out his phone. But instead of dialling he stared blankly at the screen, as if he had never seen anything like it.

Ethan looked up. He needed to focus. This was not going to work in any way if he let himself go. Instead of taking a deep breath as intended, he froze at the sight that his eyes were processing now that he looked through the glass door leading to the balcony.

Luther noticed him tense and followed his gaze. Skye was sitting on the narrow stone wall, back against the pillar on the side, knees to her chest, head tilted to one side so that she looked over the city. Ethan swallowed. Luther however pushed himself off the sofa's armrest, seemingly without effort.

"I'll talk to her."

/\/\/\/\

 _It's okay._

Skye wanted to disagree. Everything that was happening was decidedly not okay. Still the words kept ringing in her head. They should have stayed there searching what was left of the building. To hell with protocols, and to hell with authorities. They should have double and triple checked the comm system. Maybe Benji was lying somewhere, hurt and incapable of moving, but alive. He would have found a way to lead them to him. They should have... _she_ should have stayed with him in the first place. She should never have left him, just like she never should have left Connor.

It was too much. The parallels of the two events seemed to overtax her brain, her thoughts, everything.

 _It's okay._

No, it wasn't. Because that's what happened when she got close to anyone. That was what would _always_ happen when she got too attached to someone. She'd let her defences down, of course she would end up hurt. What had she been thinking?

The most horrible thing was that annoyingly reasonable voice inside her head, disproving every argument in favour of staying and in favour of Benji's survival before she could mouth anything. As if this was a time for being reasonable. She craved to be irrational right now, to insist that he was alive, to be able to believe that things would turn out fine. But he had been locked up in the centre of everything, there was no way he...

So Skye had kept quiet.

 _It's okay. It's okay. It's okay._

She was so busy wishing the voice in her head would shut up that she hardly noticed the door opening to her right. Only when Luther said her name, she registered his presence. He took a couple of steps, then stopped in the middle of the small balcony, keeping a respectful distance.

Unwillingly, she turned her head. Why did he look so concerned? Apart from obvious reasons. But this was different. Then she pieced together what he must be thinking. Benji was dead, and she was sitting on a ridiculously narrow piece of stonewall on the fifth floor.

"I'm not gonna jump," she said. "Just needed some air."

"You had us a bit worried there."

She turned her head in the other direction again.

"I'll stay here for a while if you don't mind."

Skye didn't say anything. Luther went to the wall that functioned as a bannister and leaned onto it. A couple of stars had come out, sparkling over the lights of the city. In the distance one could see the large ships calmly lying in the harbour. It was beautiful.

"He knew about it," she suddenly said.

Luther looked at her, questioningly. She met his eyes.

"He knew about the bomb. He made me go to you not because you had the codes, but because he wanted me to get out of there. He knew that I would go back for him if I learned about the explosion, and he also knew that there wasn't enough time. He bloody knew."

Luther noticed that she was desperately fighting back tears. He didn't know what to say. All of them were in shock, he was aware of that. And now it hit her just as the realisation would hit him soon enough.

"Skye... kid, I'm sorry. If there is anything..." Luther broke off. They both knew perfectly well that there was nothing. Nothing at all.

Skye swallowed hard. "I could really use a drink."

Despite everything, Luther had to smile faintly. "Come on," he said quietly, and put a hand on her back as soon as she was off the bannister.

/\/\/\/\

"You should try to get some sleep," Luther said. It was two in the morning.

Skye shot him a glare.

Luther didn't say anything but looked away.

The three of them sat in silence on either side of the kitchen counter, staring at the phone between them. Still no news from the sweepers or HQ.

The TV was mumbling with the sound turned down to minimum volume, the local news focusing on the events taking place downtown, but no one said anything about recovered bodies – or survivors.

A part of Skye was actually longing for rest. But just thinking of the dreams that were sure to come made her discard the idea immediately.

None of them spoke. Ethan wanted to comfort her. He knew what she was going through, thinking of those terrible seconds when he had thought that Julia was dead. He attempted to think of a way to tell her, but he couldn't come up with anything. _I know how you feel, I once thought my wife was dead, only it turned out she wasn't._ That would help. And then the whole thing about Julia's cover would come up and he would have to explain to Luther that right now Julia was actually alive, and...

Ethan's friend was dead. A friend, who had ultimately joined the field because of him. He couldn't even think straight, which made him uneasy. He had to keep it together, had to be strong for his team. But he couldn't. A few tears fought its way across his face.

"I'm sorry," Skye suddenly said.

Ethan flinched a little. He hadn't expected sound.

"I'm not the only one who's... lost him." Her voice broke on the last words. She had not yet acknowledged Benji's death so plainly before. It ripped something inside her. Two weeks was all they'd really had together. Two lousy weeks. And she'd thought four years of Connor had been little time. For the millionth time, she swallowed her tears. It took effort, and Skye didn't know how long she could keep up her strength.

"Hey," Luther said. "I know you're trying to be strong, kid. But this isn't good. You can't just keep blocking things forever. Sometimes you just got to let it all out."

She stared at the surface of the counter in front of her. The untouched tea still between them. She tensed. "If I start crying now, I don't think I will be able to stop," Skye whispered. It felt weird to say something like this in the presence of Ethan Hunt of all people. What the hell had happened? It felt like a minute ago they had been laughing on a train together.

When there was a knock at the door, the agents jumped as if a shot had gone off. For a split second, they looked at each other, then got up and swiftly collected their guns. Holt went behind the door, ready to open it, Hunt secured his gun, pointing, aiming, ready to shoot, while Stickell stayed behind the counter to cover Hunt.

Skye waited for him to nod, then she opened the door in one quick movement. Ethan was ready to pull the trigger, but the moment he saw who was outside the apartment, he had to force himself not to simply let go of his weapon.

Holt, behind the door, saw the two men lowering their guns, paired with expressions of pure disbelief and bewilderment, and stepped around, ready to shoot. The moment she saw Benji's face, something short-circuited in her brain.

Benji's "Hi guys," was followed by a hasty attempt to prevent Skye from hitting something solid when she fainted on the spot.


	31. Lost and Found (9)

Ethan reacted quickly. His training finally kicked back in. He stood closer to Holt, and although Benji practically bolted inside, it was Hunt who caught her. Luther got out from behind the counter, only to stand somewhat pointlessly in the middle of the room. Together, Ethan and Benji put Skye down on the floor for the lack of something better, as they had caught her rather awkwardly.

Benji cupped her face with one hand. "Skye... hey..." He elicited no reaction. Then he felt Ethan staring at him. He looked up at his friend.

Luther cleared his throat. "We should close the door," he said, and went to do so.

"Benji?" Ethan found his voice. "Don't take this the wrong way, but why aren't you dead?"

The Brit smiled. "It's a bit of a long story."

/\/\/\/\

They had put Skye on the sofa and then sat down on the floor. Benji had a cup of tea in his hands, while Ethan washed dried blood off his friend's face. There was quite a big bruise on Dunn's forehead, and several smaller scratches down the right side of his face. The skin around his left eye was beginning to blacken to a first rate shiner. He was covered in dust and grime, save for the jacket, which was unknown to either of the older agents and appeared to be German Police.

"What happened?" Ethan asked again.

The Brit brushed the scratches on his temple. "I braked with my face. Sort of."

"I'm not talking about that," the older agent replied, combing through the medical kit in search of some fitting band-aid.

Benji flinched slightly when Ethan touched his injury.

"We split up again, Skye and me. We heard something, and you didn't answer, so she was gonna go have a look. I stayed in the basement. And suddenly I'm standing in front of this," he started chuckling, "this huge bomb, you know, all lights and cables."

Ethan looked serious, causing Benji to contain himself.

Luther sat motionlessly in his spot on the armchair, arms crossed.

"I tried to figure it out, but I couldn't defuse it, not in that time. And anyway, in that moment this guy suddenly appears behind me and almost knocks me out, after some fighting," he motioned sheepishly at his eye. "Next thing I know I'm in this room. I don't know how much time has passed, don't know where I am, et cetera. And then Skye came along. I had to get her out of harm's way, so I just made something up." He looked at her, concern and relief in his eyes at the same time.

Ethan swallowed. "And how did you get out?"

"I went through the air vent." He smiled sidewise. "Simple and classic."

For a second, Ethan stared blankly at his friend. "The air vent?"

"Yeah, I wasn't sure it would work either, it was pretty narrow. But it wasn't hard to get it open. They had blocked it, but I could kick through to the next cell, which wasn't locked, so once I was there I could get out. I was inside some dumpster down in the basement when it went off. That nearly smashed me, but I'm good." He tried to smile.

"You're good," Ethan repeated. Then his voice shifted to angry. "You sure? Because you seem downright crazy to me."

Benji was a bit taken aback when he saw how mad Ethan looked.

"What took you so long, Benji? We were worried! You should have seen her!"

That hit him hard. "I..."

"You should have contacted us! You were this close to being disavowed."

"Ethan, I was a bit tied up getting out of a huge rubbish container with a collapsed building on top." His voice was calm, and he sounded astonishingly reasonable. "I tried, believe me, but there was police everywhere, and fire trucks, and I kept thinking I was being followed. I couldn't just lead them here, could I? They took my gun, I'd lost my radio, I had to consider-"

He stopped as Ethan suddenly bent forward and hugged him. Benji nearly dropped the cup out of surprise, then got it out of the way and hugged him back.

Ethan let go and leaned back against the sofa, looking exhausted somehow. "I'm sorry, Benji. I guess it's about time I get used to you being in the field." He looked at his friend to make sure that he took it as the sort of compliment he intended it to be, and not a hack at his pride. But the Brit smiled warmly.

Luther sounded as if he was stifling laughter. "You're full of surprises, you loony English maniac." He heaved himself up and firmly patted Benji's shoulder.

Benji smiled, utterly glad that he was back with his team, when something stirred on the sofa.

/\/\/\/\

The first thing Skye Holt saw were three standard IMF issue firearms on the coffee table. By all appearances she was lying on the sofa. The door was closed. Her vision became blurry again.

The first thing she felt, was a hand on hers. Warm and comforting.

She blinked, and waited for dark splotches to subside. Then she slowly turned her head.

No... no, that wasn't possible.

"Heya." Benji was smiling.

For a second or two, she just stared at his dark blue eyes, looking for that brown spot in the right one. Then the situation fully hit her.

Not thinking about it she hurled herself up, hugging him around his neck, burying her face on his shoulder. Before he could even get his arms around her she was crying. All of the tears she'd held back in the last couple of hours were streaming helplessly out of her. Benji was a bit overwhelmed by her reaction, but then he held her tightly, carefully nudging his nose in her hair just above her left ear.

"It's all right, love," he said softly. "Everything's fine."

It took Skye a while to calm down. Eventually she stopped crying, but still wouldn't let go of him. "You bastard," she whispered against his dusty shirt. That caused him to chuckle.

Skye struggled to look up at him. "I thought you were..."

"I know. I'm sorry."

She finally got a grip on herself and sat up properly, suddenly bringing distance between them by shoving him away. "How?" Suddenly there was an undercurrent of fury in her voice.

He watched her wipe the tears off her face. "I had a plan. But I wasn't sure if it was gonna work, and I had to know that you were safe. If I'd told you about the bomb you would have tried to get me free first, but there wasn't enough time."

"Why would you do that?" she asked quietly. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

"Skye, there wasn't enough time." He ventured to take her hand, but she withdrew it. Benji decided to be brutally honest. "It would have taken too long to tell you about my idea. And besides, you would have tried to talk me out of it. I needed you to get out."

It took her two seconds to answer. "You're a bloody hero."

Despite Skye's bitter undertone, he grinned mischievously.

She swallowed. "Don't ever do that again."

"Okay." He took her hand again, and this time she let it happen. "I promise."

Ethan and Luther were dead on their feet, but Skye seemed to shake all of the previous exhaustion off as if it was nothing. While the others went to catch some sleep, she had a look at Benji's injuries again.

"You don't have to do this. I've already kept you up long enough."

"You said it nearly smashed you," she quoted his second report of what had happened, after making him sit down on the rim of the bathtub. The lights in the bathroom were dim, two of the lamps had given up over the years.

"I exaggerated," Benji lied, but rolled up his right sleeve to let her check on his arm, which had taken most of the impact.

"It's gonna be hell of a bruise if you don't at least let me put some cream on it." She sounded strangely emotionless, but Benji thought he could detect a hint of trembling in her voice. "Take off your shirt."

Benji listened, and let her rub the cold stuff down his arm before he changed into something fresh. Her careful but firm motions made his skin tingle and distracted him from whatever pain he was feeling, as if his thoughts weren't already occupied enough with the memory of her reaction at him not being dead. He never would have dared to imagine that she cared like this.

He pulled down his new shirt and watched Skye store away the small tube again. When that was done she looked strangely helpless all of a sudden.

"Are you okay?" With all the fuss that had been made around him, he hadn't gotten around to asking that question yet.

Skye looked at him for a split second, and somehow the unconcealed concern in his big dark blue eyes made her want to cry again.

She let herself slide down with her back against the bathtub, and sat with her knees to her chest. She wasn't sure where this feeling came from all of a sudden, she didn't even know what was happening to her. Benji slid down next to her.

"What's wrong?"

He sounded so concerned. That just made it worse.

He felt her tense up. "Skye."

She looked straight ahead, focusing on some point in the half-light.

"Talk to me."

Skye kept quiet for a while longer. When she spoke, her words took him by surprise. "Were you scared?" Abruptly she looked into his eyes, so that all he could do was nod.

"I was scared that you hadn't made it out in time," he added quietly.

Skye looked away again. Benji saw that she was struggling with herself, almost as if she was close to tears. Her mouth opened and closed again. "How could you do this, Benji? You _knew_. You're the only one who knows." Skye broke off, biting back her sudden anger. Then a sigh went through her like a shiver. Much more quietly she continued, in an almost regretful tone, "You must be thinking I'm a complete nutcase for acting like this." Before he could say anything, she added, "I really... really care about you, Benji."

That silenced him. His heart started beating faster. She took his hand, and he was glad that she did.

"It's just... all this today, I don't..." She looked away again, visibly forcing herself to remain calm. "This isn't me. I don't – cry in front of people, I don't faint, I don't get rendered useless just because something bad happened on a mission, not even back when – when..." A small sob escaped her, making her mad at herself. "I don't sit in dark bathrooms in the middle of the night." It sounded weak and somewhat cynical when she tried to laugh.

Cynicism didn't suit her, Benji found. He put an arm around her, half resting it on the rim of the bath tub.

Slowly, she got closer to him. "You know, they teach us how to block our emotions, and it used to work, but I can't – I can't block this." She paused again. "I can't block you," she whispered, and turned to face him. "And it scares me."

Benji was still baffled by what she'd just told him, the fact that she cared about him. He wanted to repay the favour, show her how much that meant to him – really, he just longed to kiss her. But he worried that might look as if he was taking advantage of her right now.

"I just thought that it was happening all over again," she whispered, leaning against his shoulder. "I told you about – when Connor died. What happened there, it was exactly like this. He told me to get out, to get those people out of harm's way. He said he'd be right behind me. What he failed to mention were the charges he'd set all over the place."

"You mean..." Benji swallowed when he realised how dreadful this must have been for her.

"He blew the whole thing up, along with most of the enemies and himself to give me time to run. And the really horrible thing is that I listened to him and used his death to stay in the field. What we did was unsanctioned, disobeying direct orders. We shouldn't have been there in the first place. We had orders to give up on the last hostage and bring the other two in. But we both agreed that we couldn't leave it like that. Later on I said he had gone on his own and that I went back for him. And they judged in my favour."

"Skye..." Benji said compassionately and held her closer.

Skye looked into his eyes. "You can't tell this to anyone," she said firmly. "No one can know about this, okay?"

Benji wasn't sure what to say. He was still marvelling at the fact that she trusted him enough to share this. He just wanted to hold her and tell her that he was sorry. That he hadn't known what he'd put her through. "I'm so sorry about all this," Benji began.

"You have nothing to apologise for." Her voice was a lot firmer now. "You did nothing wrong. I would have done the same. And that's exactly my point, it shouldn't mess me up like this, but it does, and... I don't..."

"Sshh..." He stroked her shoulder with his thumb.

"I just don't know how to cope with all this."

"Listen. I know you're trying to... not get close to anyone ever since you've lost Connor. But you don't have to swallow everything down. I know, security protocols, and sure, blocking things is part of the job, but I'm here for you. You can tell me things when it gets too much. I promise you, your secret's safe with me. We're in this together. And as long as we're together, nothing can happen. Right?"

"Right," she replied quietly.

"Apart maybe from the time we ended up hanging on the outside of a highrise. That wasn't exactly safe," he said, his tone as light as if he was talking about the weather. "Or the time I almost got ourselves caught because I dropped the flashlight. Or that one time I crashed a Jaguar into freezing water. Or when we-"

Defeated, she chuckled.

"See, everything's fine," he smiled, and gave her a little shove. "But seriously, I didn't mean to put you through this. I had no idea. _Mi spiace_."

Skye frowned at him.

"You said you liked Italian," he explained in an endearingly shy tone.

Without warning she was flooded with an incredibly warm feeling, something so far yet unknown to her, at least in that extent.

Nervously Skye licked her lips. "You know, I've never actually been to Italy," she said, trying to keep it together.

"Me neither." Their eyes met again, and this time Benji was the one who couldn't stand it. "Come on, now." He smiled and got up, holding out one hand to help her up as well. "Before we get caught." He winked at her, and something inside Skye melted.

She smiled back and took his hand.

/\/\/\/\

That night wasn't made for sleep, though. They had ended up on the sofa, quietly talking, neither of them wanting to give up each other's company.

Skye told him about the Samara mission, about how her best friend had died in an explosion in order to get her out, and talking about it, after all this time, felt astonishingly good. Somehow she felt way too warm and comfortable this close to Benji to really feel sad.

They went on about missions, and friends, and places they'd been to, and favourite cities, and the first records they ever bought, until the sky outside hinted a sunrise by turning pale pink on the edges.

Benji slowly leaned back, settling in the corner of the sofa, but kept his eyes fixed on her, taking in everything she said.

"Now you've got all the best space," she chided, smiling.

Benji was glad that she still smiled at him after all this. Maybe it was the fact that he couldn't remember the last time he had slept, maybe it was the general notion of being alive, who knew, but he pushed himself back up and drew her close without much of a warning, leaning back again with his arms around her so that Skye's head landed on his shoulder.

He could tell that he had taken her by surprise, but then he felt her relax. Slowly, one muscle after the other, like it was a conscious effort.

"Okay?" Benji asked quietly. He wasn't sure if he wanted to hear her answer, because she felt small and warm in his arms and he really didn't want to let go.

It took Skye a second to find her voice. "Is that all right with your arm?"

"Yeah, don't worry," he said soothingly, because she sounded concerned. Skye Holt, worried about him. Imagine that.

They sorted their arms, so that Skye's hand came to rest on his shoulder and his went around her waist. Suddenly they were quiet, after all that talking.

Skye focused on Benji's heartbeat, and the small movements of his breathing. Maybe he knew. About all those things she couldn't bring herself to say. But for now, she just wanted exactly this, Benji being alive and close to her.

"Are you asleep?" he whispered. She could feel his breath on her forehead.

"No," she whispered back.

"'cause you can sleep if you want to. I'll look out for you."

She had to smile, and somehow managed to get closer to him still.

Benji felt her move her head, the tip of her nose brushed along his neck for a second, and then he felt her lips settle just below his jaw. Just a brief kiss, hardly lasting a second. Still his heart sped up like crazy and he tightened their embrace involuntarily.

Skye didn't seem to mind. She just settled back against his shoulder. "I'm really glad you're okay."

Benji wasn't sure what he was doing when he turned his head and planted a kiss just below her hairline, but it felt incredible. He decided to stay like this with his head resting against hers, and his nose buried in her hair.

That way, they both fell asleep within a minute.


	32. Lost and Found (10)

The sickeningly soft click of a gun being loaded caused Skye to react before she was fully awake. Instinctively she pushed Benji off the sofa so that he would be covered, pushed herself upright and got hold of the weapon next to her ear.

Only when she saw that she was pointing the gun at a smiling Luther, she relaxed a bit.

"Great reaction time, kiddo," he said. "Sorry. But we have a plane to catch and I couldn't get you to wake up. I thought you'd prefer this to cold water."

Skye exhaled shakily and shoved the gun back into his hands.

Benji sat up on the floor and rubbed his head. "Well, thanks, mate," he said sarcastically.

Luther shrugged and tucked the gun away. "It's not even loaded."

"Is that supposed to..."

Skye wasn't listening anymore. She got up from the sofa and made straight for the bathroom, feeling incredibly embarrassed.

"Just friends, huh?" she heard Luther say behind her.

"Shut up," Benji murmured.

/\/\/\/\

"Coffee?"

When the corresponding smell hit her nose she couldn't say no, even though she was sure she would fall asleep the minute she was on that plane despite the prospect of caffeine.

"Thank you," she said quietly and took the paper cup.

Benji sat down in the plastic seat next to her. The noise of the airport around them seemed to fade out to a low murmur. Why did he get the feeling that she regretted everything that happened last night?

"Sorry about the floor," Skye made herself apologise. "It's not like you need any more bruises."

"At least it wasn't a wall this time." Benji's smile was so genuine that it confused her. "Got you something," he said.

Skye glanced to her right and saw the black and red wrapping of a Mars bar. She met Benji's eyes.

"I still owed you one." He shrugged and smiled uncertainly.

Skye smiled back widely, and suddenly the tension between them was gone. Chuckling softly, she reached for it, brushing his fingers with hers. With a crack she split in into two and gave him half. "Thanks for last night," she then said thoughtfully. "For looking out for me."

Benji smiled. "Always."

The call for boarding sounded.

/\/\/\/\

"I'm _fine_ ," Benji clarified for the third time. "Just a bit tired."

"I'll be the judge of that," Dr. Lee stated resolutely, making him stay on the daybed where she'd told him to sit down.

Ethan and Luther exchanged a grin, while Benji rolled his eyes amiably, which looked funny with his black eye.

In that moment Brandt entered the infirmary of IMF HQ. Despite the open door he knocked politely at the door frame to announce his presence. Skye straightened slightly.

"I heard you guys were back," the analyst said in response to the hellos from everyone. "Just what exactly were you thinking bombing a World Heritage Site?"

"Brandt, you know it's not like that," Ethan began, sighing. "Remember the Kremlin? That was-"

"Oh yes, I remember the Kremlin, because Hunley," the analyst gestured with his phone, "is kind enough to remind me of it on a daily basis. Do you know how many times I've had to listen to this guy telling me that he's gonna get the committee to shut us down?"

"You know that's not gonna happen," Hunt said, trying to calm him down.

"Do you know _how_ many times?" Brandt repeated, and they could sense how angry he was beneath his cover of professional calmness.

Ethan sighed. "No, I don't."

"Okay, that's enough," Dr. Lee interrupted, and from the tone in the Hong Kong-born woman's voice no one dared to say one more word. "All of you who have not been in an explosion in the past twenty-four hours – out."

Brandt raised his eyebrows and looked at Benji, who remained seated with a sigh while all the others got up. But the Brit smiled at him reassuringly, so that Brandt followed them.

"Can we talk about this in my office?" the chief analyst picked up where he left off.

"Sure," Luther said. "After I had something to eat."

If Ethan hadn't still been so finished himself, he would have laughed at the way Brandt first sighed and then nodded, as if he already knew that it was pointless arguing with him. "Half an hour. My office."

"I'll be there," Luther said.

The technician had already gone on his way to find food, when Ethan was held back. Skye had been so quiet all morning that he'd almost forgotten about her.

"Ethan," she said, and looked very serious all of a sudden. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

/\/\/\/\

Benji spotted her walking along a corridor. "Skye."

She turned around, and let him catch up. "So Lee let you out?"

He made a dismissive gesture. "Like I said, I'm fine. How was Brandt?"

Skye's face tightened. "It seems Hunley is getting serious. But there's not much we can do about that I'm afraid. If we tweak the reports and he finds out, he's got even more against us."

"Mh," Benji said. Then he smiled. "I was wondering – if, maybe, you wanted to get coffee? With me?"

She looked mildly surprised. "Right now?"

"No... I meant, like, outside of HQ. Maybe. If you'd like." He could tell by her face that she got it then, but at the same time there was something else for a second. Guilt? Or pity.

Uncomfortable, she looked around. The hallway wasn't exactly busy, but there were other people around.

"I... I already have a new assignment."

"Oh," Benji nodded. "Yeah, I get it." What he didn't get was why she looked so serious. Something felt weird.

"I just think, maybe..." She took a short breath, ordering her thoughts. "I would love to have coffee with you," she then said honestly, meeting his eyes. When had she come so close? "After this mission."

Benji felt disappointment and ecstasy at the same time. "Okay," he managed to say.

"There's one other thing," Skye said. She briefly looked at the floor before paralysing him with her maybe-green eyes again. "What we talked about last night was very... personal."

Benji got the subtext. That also explained why she was so serious towards him. "Don't worry," he said. Even – or maybe especially – in the headquarters of a secret organisation the walls could have ears. "That's gonna stay between us."

She nodded. "I have to go."

"Do you know when you'll be back?"

"With any luck within the next few days." She finally smiled. "And then we can get that coffee."

When she was out of sight, Benji felt the need to talk to Jane again.


	33. Done and Dusted (1)

Author's note: Welcome to the final part. I found it really hard to decide where to cut the chapters (this was written as one continuous text), so I hope the chapters aren't too long. Either way, if you've made it this far, I would love to know what you think.

Cheers.

* * *

 **Part Four: Done and Dusted**

It wasn't the first time that Agent Holt was running for her life, and it probably wouldn't be the last. Still, this was one of those that would cut it awfully close. She took a right, mentally turning the map in her head ninety degrees. She could hear footsteps behind her, almost matching her own speed. The cut on her arm burned like fire, her sleeve had soaked up some of the blood, but fortunately there wasn't too much of it.

She reached the safe house, her pursuers just far enough away. Why weren't they shooting at her? But there was no time to ponder this fact further, she simply accepted it with a certain benevolent curiosity. She hit the mailbox with her fist, causing it to flap open and reveal a monitor. Holt slammed her palm onto it, steadying herself against the wall. She suddenly felt dizzy. All that running probably. And when was the last time she had eaten something anyway? No time now. The scan seemed to take ages.

"Voice print - required," a way too calm female voice ordered her.

The writing on the screen backing this statement up blurred in front of her. She blinked furiously to clear her head. What was wrong with her? She cleared her throat. It took effort.

"Agent..." She swayed to one side, had to catch herself.

"Voice print - required," the computer voice persisted.

Those people. They should have caught up by now. Maybe she had managed to lose them after all.

She pulled herself together. "Agent Alpha... Two One Seven." She couldn't breathe. Her chest tightened. With everything she had she punched in the eight-digit code. Then she broke down on her knees, facing the ground. Her vision got blurry, as if a slight fog was over her eyes. Reddish fog. Her breath came in fits. Blood was running down her right arm as she tried to sustain herself on the ground. Without success.

A second later she was lying awkwardly in front of the door. She couldn't move. Her head felt like it would burst any second. Dark red liquid ran down her wrist right in front of her eyes. Something about the blood... about the cut... about the knife... almost...

Two feet in heavy boots appeared in her field of vision, tinted more and more deep red, like the blood running down her arm. Without any hurry someone stepped in front of her and bent down.

Everything went dark around her. The last thing she heard was a strangely artificial sounding voice.

"Agent – confirmed."

/\/\/\/\

William Brandt looked up from the mountain of paperwork when the scent of fresh coffee hit his nose.

"Tell me that is for me," he greeted his friend who had just entered.

"Of course it is," Benji smirked. "There's a rumour going around that no one is allowed to enter your office without a caffeine sacrifice."

"There's truth to every rumour," Brandt said and gratefully accepted the cup.

"Just came to drop these off." He considered for a moment where to place the thin folder amidst the stacks of files towering around Brandt, before carefully putting it down on the one that seemed least likely to collapse.

"Never got enough of those... Shouldn't you be home by now?" the analyst asked, checking the time and realising with a bit of a shock that it was close to midnight.

"I've been following up this lead on Nolan. Turned out to be nothing, as usual... Shouldn't _you_ be home by now?"

Brandt swallowed a big gulp of coffee. "Good one."

Benji sighed with a slight smile. "I guess I'll leave you to it then. Unless I can help you with something?"

"I don't think so, it's just about time we get a new secretary. I can't keep doing two jobs at once... one of which I'm not even authorised for."

"I'll see you tomorrow then." Benji hesitated. "Try to get some sleep, okay?"

"I'll try."

"One thing," the Brit spoke up again when he was already halfway to the door. "Have you seen Skye around by any chance?"

"I think so, why?"

"I haven't seen her in a while and I've been kind of wondering..."

"I believe she's in town, at least according to the ongoing operations I know about. I saw her with Ethan a couple of times since you got back."

Benji looked a bit surprised. "Ethan? And where's he?"

"He's in Canada. Took Luther along if I remember correctly. You want me to check?" he offered, motioning towards his computer.

"No, no, don't bother."

The analyst watched his friend turn to the door again, catching a glimpse of his face and deciding the shadow on it was more than just exhaustion. "What's the deal with you two anyway?"

Benji looked over his shoulder. "I don't know, to be honest. I may have been an idiot without meaning to, and I haven't really seen her ever since, so..." He shrugged, and opened the door. "I'll be off."

Brandt nodded. "See you."

/\/\/\/\

In another part of the city, a man was running for his life as well. As for him, it surely wasn't the first time that he was being chased, it was however the first time that he was genuinely terrified. Gunfire was echoing in his ears. Sweat was running down his temples. Shiny smears gleamed in his dark hair every time he passed a light source. His vision blurred occasionally. His lungs were burning. He had no idea where he was, or where he was going. As long as it included the word 'away' it suited him fine. He was running on pure instinct. But he couldn't go on much longer.

This time of night there were not many people around, still, the few that had some nightly errand jumped out of the man's path. Heads turned, first after him, then in the opposite direction, looking for the reason of the man's speed. Someone called after him to watch out. He seemed downright mad. More than one pedestrian considered calling – who, exactly? The police? An ambulance? In the end, they all minded their own business, deciding to let him run away from nothing.

/\/\/\/\

The apartment was illuminated only by the persistent blinking of the monitor's small button, indicating that the computer had gone to stand-by a while ago. The half-drawn blinds allowed pale light from the city below to enter, bathing everything in a strange dusky shimmer. There was no moon above Washington D.C. Dark clouds were crawling over the night sky.

Benji Dunn had fallen asleep on the keyboard, head resting on his arm, constantly pressing down a good portion of keys. His headset was stuck under his ear but otherwise ready to fall off. It had been a long day.

He shifted a bit and sighed in his sleep after having reached a somehow more comfortable position.

The headset slid slowly onto the desktop.

/\/\/\/\

"Where did you get this?"

Luther Stickell glued the woman to the wall. Posing as a police officer, he found he might as well make use of the respective grip. He'd helped an undercover IMF team on short notice with a drug bust downtown. Everything had gone according to plan, until this woman had been forced to identify herself in the course of the arrest.

"Where?" he asked again.

The woman hissed something between clenched teeth.

"Where did you get that ID?"

"Black market," she spat.

"I'm gonna need a name from you."

"I don't know any names, what do you think how this works?"

The ID in his hand caught the light when he tightened his grip, and a reflection gleamed over the familiar face of Birgitta Enquist.

"There's a new guy selling shit behind the Galaxy," she gasped.

"The what?"

"The shitty motel. It's called something else now, French I think. Some Canadian guy is fixing it up and now it's a club or something. But I swear I don't know who they are, I got word they were first rate, and they took good money too, but it seemed worth it."

Luther let go of her. "I gotta go," he called to the rest of his team, and ignored the confused looks on their faces. "Take her with you."

/\/\/\/\

Benji woke up with a flinch. Some dream. No big deal. He was used to it by now. Groaning he got up and rubbed his forehead. The keyboard had left an imprint of squares on his arm. His neck felt stiff. The technician stretched, re-orienting himself.

Right, he was home. That was so unusual by now that he wasn't entirely sure whether his place in D.C. deserved that title. This was his first time home in weeks. One mission had been followed by the next one, and in the end he hadn't set foot in his own flat since before the mission in Randers. The little time he had been in town had been spent at the IMF headquarters.

So much had happened in the past couple of weeks, on literally every level.

The search for Marcus Atwood, Kirsten Caulfield, and Philipp Nolan himself had been fruitless so far. The network seemed to have gone into hiding.

The hard drive they had recovered in Malmö was keeping every available technician busy, and even Benji had once more returned to the cellar to help decrypting it.

Probing Kennedy Ltd. for evidence had proven to be pointless as well. It was just a normal company for online marketing management, and if Benji hadn't been there in Toronto himself, by now he would probably doubt the network even existed.

But it also felt strangely unnatural to be alone. He missed Skye. He hadn't seen her since Hamburg, and he didn't quite understand why. Sure, there was work, but it had felt so good between them that night when they had talked for hours and fallen asleep together. And then there was the thing that she had said that she really, really cared about him and he had basically said nothing – without meaning to do so.

Skye probably thought that she had said way too much without getting anything back, which was why she now kept her distance. Just thinking about it made him mad at himself, after all she had told him about her past and trusted him with so much.

What worried him most, even if he hated admitting it, was that Skye seemed to spend quite a bit of her time at HQ with Ethan. Maybe it had been a mistake after all, to bring those two together.

Benji made himself discard the grave thought. He leaned back in his chair, tapped the mouse. The screen came back to life, showing a paused game of Tomb Raider. Sighing, he closed it and checked the time in the lower right corner. It was half past two. What he needed was a good night's sleep and a decent breakfast in the morning to calm down. Benji was about to shut the computer down, when a sound caused his hand to freeze in mid-air, finger hovering over the left button of his mouse.

Benji turned around sharply. No one was there.

"Now you're getting paranoid," the Brit murmured to himself, turning back, but almost subconsciously reaching over the desk to get his gun closer.

Then, it sounded again.

A dull thudding noise. Outside the front door.

Benji swallowed, but did not waste one second. Wide awake now he had the secretly installed security camera's live stream in front of him within a couple of clicks, showing a perfectly normal staircase. Perfectly normal, apart from the hunched figure leaning against his door.

/\/\/\/\

He wasn't sure how he had gotten here. He wasn't sure what he was doing here. And he certainly wasn't sure how he had climbed the stairs. His vision pulsed along with the blood in his ears, kind of stroboscopic, allowing him to see almost painfully clearly one second, only to let complete darkness fall in the next.

He broke down. A last reflex forced him to cling to the door frame. His shoulder met a surface, vertical or horizontal he couldn't tell.

His heartbeat was astonishingly loud, causing everything around him to reverberate. He was falling, he was sure of it.

 _Pulse._ Everything blacked out. One. Two.

 _Pulse._ There was something. In the corner. Next to him. Above him?

He turned his head toward it. It was tiny and black, nigh undetectable.

 _Pulse._ Darkness again. It felt warm and safe. One. Two. Three.

 _Pulse._ It had to be a camera. Someone could see him. Someone would come. How did he know all this?

Something liquid was running down his face, meeting the corner of his eye. He closed them.

 _Pulse._ Deep breath. A deafening sound was in his head, piercing and fiery. A scratching and hauling, and the ground gave way. One. Two. Three. Four.

 _Pulse._ Dark blue eyes, right in front of him. More than that, a face. It seemed vaguely familiar. Just why was he being shouted at?

 _Pulse._ He wanted to answer. He needed to tell the face something. Only... One. Two. Three. Four.

Five...

/\/\/\/\

"Ethan!"

Benji caught his friend just before he slid entirely to the ground, as he was already in a somewhat sitting position, steadying his body against the door frame.

"Ethan." Benji bent down, catching Hunt's head from meeting something all too solid. His hand felt something wet in the other agent's hair. "Can you hear me?"

He forced his voice to remain calm and steady.

Ethan Hunt opened his eyes, one more than the other. Their eyes met for a second, and Benji thought he saw something questioning in Hunt's glance before he shut them again, passing out in his arms.

"Ethan, hey, look at me. Ethan!"

No reaction.


	34. Done and Dusted (2)

"She actually unlocked it?"

"Yes, she did," Moritz Christensen reported. "And we have _everything_."

For a second Philipp Nolan made the impression of giving in to praise. But then he just continued in a dismissive tone. "Where is she now?"

"The Store Room. It's the only one with a completely installed security system." Christensen's voice had gotten defensive. "Not that she can do much, but we thought-"

"Yes," he said coldly. "Better safe than sorry with those people, especially her. You've seen the tapes." Nolan considered for a moment. "What about him?" he then asked.

There was no point delaying it. "No trace. He was bloody fast."

"I see."

"But wherever he ended up, he won't be a problem. We made sure of that."

"Yeah, Kirsten was right about that," Nolan said. For a second he seemed lost in thought. "Well, don't bother to unpack. I've spoken to Caracas and they're ready. D.C. is getting decidedly too hot."

Christensen agreed.

Nolan turned to the door. "Is she fit for travelling?"

"I wouldn't expect too much from her." He allowed himself a grin.

"Then I suppose we'll have to finish with these people here." Nolan said, and made to leave. "Fine by me."

/\/\/\/\

Benji Dunn sat down on the floor next to the raided medical kit. He hadn't thought far enough to call an ambulance. Every agent had at least basic medical training, and after Jane had gotten shot right in front of him back in India, the technician had expanded his knowledge on that subject. He took a couple of deep breaths before he picked up his phone.

Ethan was on the sofa. Still unconscious, but breathing calmly, and, as far as Benji was concerned, safe. At least for now. The door was locked, all security systems online and working, the gun well within reach at Benji's belt.

He picked the number and put the phone to his ear. Left-handed. His right hand was on Ethan's wrist, feeling his pulse.

The dial tone sounded too loud. Finally, someone picked up.

/\/\/\/\

Luther Stickell had a bad feeling. He couldn't reach Agent Holt. For the moment Luther discarded the thought of checking her flat, probably there was a very simple explanation for everything. He'd try HQ first. Although that was at the other end of town. There was a small safe house nearby though. With a secure uplink to the databases. He'd be able to check her current location.

How could a top notch IMF-issue ID of her secret identity have come into the hands of some low-level drug addict? The only possibility was that there had been an ongoing operation right here in town, and either the kid had lost it, or she'd been forced to give it up. But why of all things had it been this ID?

Coincidence, Stickell tried to tell himself, but didn't really believe it. He needed a laptop with a stable uplink to the IMF server, and then he would continue to the Galaxy, preferably with back-up, if that could be arranged. But who was he kidding.

He turned a corner. And then Luther's bad feeling returned and increased when he saw the open mail box revealing the scanner next to the door of the safe house. He tapped the door with his foot and it swung open. For a second he remained standing in the door frame and took in the chaos. The small space had been raided, to put it mildly. Everything was turned over, and what wasn't turned over was gone. Laptops, IDs, weapons, all of the back-up supply had been taken. And slowly it became clear to him that the dark stains on the doorstep were blood.

/\/\/\/\

William Brandt was surviving on coffee. The idea of sleep was wishful thinking. It was one of those nights where ten things had happened at once and demanded sorting, and he was supposed to pick up the pieces. And on top of all, that guy Hunley still seemed to think that it was his responsibility to annoy Brandt with his hollow threats of asking the committee to shut down the IMF.

He had been sitting down at his desk for literally two seconds before his phone started ringing. He was not in the mood, but picked up nevertheless without even so much as glancing at the screen. The job was the job. The sooner he'd do it, the sooner it'd be over.

"Brandt," he answered, muffling his own voice by rubbing over his face with one hand. He noticed that his coffee mug was empty _again_. How was that even possible?

"Brandt, it's Benji."

There was something in his friend's voice that made him forget about coffee.

"I thought I sent you home for a change. Something wrong?"

"Most certainly. Ethan just turned up at my place."

Brandt sat up. The gears in his head started turning. "That... can't be, he was in Canada a minute ago."

"Well, he's here, and he's in pretty bad shape. He's asleep now, if you want to call it that."

Brandt swallowed. "Is he okay?"

"Yeah..." Benji's voice trailed off, maybe he was checking something. "Yeah, for now I'd say he's okay. I patched him up. It looked worse than it probably was, but I have a bad feeling. I think someone's after him."

Brandt immediately got the hint. "I'll send someone to get you."

"Good." The analyst could hear Benji's relief. For a second there was silence. "You should probably get us a medic as well. Just to be sure."

"I got it. You stay put."

"Okay... thanks."

An instant after hanging up, Brandt was already dialling again, rubbing his frowning forehead.

 _Hell of a night_ , he thought.

/\/\/\/\

A part of Benji was almost glad to be back at HQ and out of his dusty apartment. In a weird way, it felt more like home right now. Although the circumstances were hardly desirable.

"Don't worry."

He turned his head. Dr. Lee, who had already been on the transport, had appeared next to him.

"You did a good job. He'll be fine."

Benji managed a sheepish smile that apparently sufficed as an answer, for she went to attend some other unfortunate of that night.

So now there he was, standing at the end of a hospital bed in a small side room of the infirmary, and only now he realised that he had been so preoccupied caring for his friend, and thinking about possible consequences of his unforeseen appearance, and initiating security measures, that he hadn't even had time to worry about anything.

Now everything was taken care of, and his thoughts could ramble.

/\/\/\/\

The Brit was so deep in thought that Brandt could only elicit any reaction from him when he put a hand on his shoulder. He started slightly at the contact, but his features brightened when he recognised his friend.

"How is he?" Brandt nodded towards Ethan, keeping his distance. Seeing the agent the former secretary himself had called 'his best man' like this made him more than uncomfortable. In the white bed sheets, their team leader looked paler than he probably was, letting the scratches in his face and the reddish swelling around his eye stand out even more. His black hair was partly tucked under a bandage.

"Stable." Benji's voice was low and calm. "They told me he'd be fine. I don't know. He seemed strange. Not just beaten up, you know... Lee is running some tests."

Brandt only nodded. "What happened, exactly?"

Benji told him with a few sentences. "So you tell me. What was he up to?" he concluded.

The analyst ruffled his hair, leaning on to the adjacent – unoccupied – daybed. "I made a couple of phone calls. He was in Canada, together with Luther."

Benji frowned and carefully placed himself at the foot of Ethan's bed, facing Brandt. He crossed his arms. "Toronto?"

The analyst nodded. "According to all data, it was observe and report. Nothing unusual or explicitly dangerous. Not for him, anyway." For a second, Brandt looked at Hunt.

"So what did Luther say?" Benji asked when he didn't continue.

Brandt turned back to him. "I didn't talk to him."

Benji frowned again, confused. "Why?" he pronounced very clearly, as Brandt yet again failed to elaborate.

The analyst sighed heavily. "Officially, they're on radio silence. They have been since last night. They reported having reached a critical point where any unplanned communication might blow their cover. I'll try him again as soon as I'm authorised to."

Brandt knew Benji wanted to object but knew better. The inner dissonance was plainly visible on his face. Instead of answering he turned to his right to look at Ethan again. "You want some coffee?" he asked quietly without looking at him.

Despite everything, Brandt had to smirk. "Come on."

/\/\/\/\

Luther was mad. In all of his years with the IMF he hadn't made a phone call that infuriating. He kept walking, determined to find this person selling secret fake IDs. It was bound to be a milk run, anyway. He was still in the police uniform, any kids playing delinquent in their spare time would tremble before him.

The big letters spelling out the name 'Galaxy' were still there, but unlit. It looked lonely. The sign proclaiming No Vacancies was on, though. The windows were dark. But not just due to the fact that there were no lights on; most of them were in fact blacked out, probably with dark paint or foil. The new name was already in place. Mot Clé. French for keyword, if he wasn't mistaken. Weird name for a club.

Luther scrutinised the building from the opposite side of the street, then he crossed over and walked around to the back. A lonely lamp on the facade shed some yellowish light. Litter was everywhere, a few rubbish containers stood at the wall, emitting a foul smell. Something dashed away into the shadows. Luther could only assume it was a cat.

When he noticed the cameras he followed it, into the shadows, out of sight.

The agent waited. For a few seconds nothing happened, then the camera soundlessly repositioned itself, pointing directly at him.

Someone was watching.

/\/\/\/\

Brandt woke up only slowly. His office came into focus, from an angle he wasn't quite accustomed to. He usually sat behind the desk, hardly ever in front of it, and the sofa he had been sleeping on had, as far as he could recall, never been used in his presence. He often wondered why it was even there. He looked to his left. Benji was still asleep, half sitting in the corner of the sofa, arms crossed in front of him, head tilted to one side.

"Agent Brandt?"

Someone was talking to him. That was why he had woken up in the first place.

"What time is it?" he asked, sitting up, when last night's events caught up with his sleepy condition.

"It's almost eleven," Dr. Lee said impatiently after checking her watch. Benji stirred awake at the sound of voices. "I'm afraid I need you in the infirmary. Agent Hunt woke up a while ago."

Benji sat up. "Is he all right?" he asked, his voice slightly deeper than usual from too little sleep.

"I wouldn't say so. That's why I'm here."


	35. Done and Dusted (3)

Ethan was cold. At the same time, sweat stood on his forehead, and despite several blankets around him he couldn't stop shaking. At least the pain had stopped.

 _Ethan, can I talk to you for a minute?_

There was this voice in his head from time to time. A woman's voice, but he couldn't place it, nor did he know what she was talking about, or if it was even real.

The woman with the black ponytail and the lab coat came back. She _was_ real, and she had barely left him alone ever since he'd woken up. Now she had brought even more people.

Two men entered his room along with her. One was wearing a crumpled grey suit and a tie that demanded straightening, and had a paper cup in his hand that held coffee so strong that Ethan could smell it the second he entered. His brown hair was ruffled.

The other one was blond, dressed in jeans and a faded Jurassic Park t-shirt. His hands were in his pockets. Both of them looked like they could use a shower, a shave and a couple more hours of sleep. When they caught sight of him, their expressions changed from exhausted to worried.

"Hey, buddy," the blond guy said, and came closer.

 _British_ , Ethan thought.

"How are you?"

The woman answered in his place. "He hasn't said anything since he woke up. In fact he's been mostly passive, he just sits there. He is reacting to outside stimuli, but those are reflex actions."

The guy in the suit flinched slightly at these words, not taking his eyes off Ethan.

"That's why I thought I'd get you," Lab Coat continued. "You are his friends. I think he needs some familiar faces right now."

 _It's about what happened in Sweden. About Christensen._

"He hasn't talked?"

 _Definitely British_ , Ethan thought. _English, to be precise._

The blond guy looked from him to the others and back again. "Ethan." The sound of that word surprised him. For a second, their eyes locked, before the older agent looked away again.

"Ethan." Now the other guy joined in, taking a sip from his coffee, before placing it on some available surface, stepping closer from the other side.

Now he understood what was going on here. They were surrounding him, blocking possible escape routes. The two men were back-up. Poor back-up, but still.

 _I know I should have told you sooner. But I needed to be sure._

"The first results of the blood test show that he has been drugged, and in abundance." The woman again. "We just don't know yet what it was. Or if it's the cause of his condition."

"What do you mean, if it's the cause?" the Brit said. "What else could be the cause?"

"Trauma," the woman said simply.

The guy in the suit looked incredulous. "Him and trauma?"

"Well, the two of you were my last resort. But he shows neither recognition nor understanding."

Recognition? Was he supposed to know them? He noticed how the men's faces fell to some degree at the lab coat woman's words. Even she noticed.

 _Person of interest? You're exaggerating, I'm not in danger._

"Sorry," she added. "I suppose it just takes time. Who knows what he's been through. His symptoms are often attributed to brain trauma. We haven't found any physical signs yet, but cerebral haemorrhaging can take time to show up in scans. And temporary amnesia is nothing unusual in certain cases."

"Temporary amnesia, this is nonsense," the suit guy suddenly said, accentuating his words with an abrupt movement towards Ethan that made him wince slightly. The guy in the suit didn't care. "You do recognise us, Ethan, right? Right?"

"Agent Brandt, maybe you should-"

"You know me, and Benji, we are _friends_. More than that," he chuckled sarcastically, "funnily enough, right now I am your boss, and you owe me an explanation, because you're supposed to be in _Canada_ , Ethan."

The woman cut in again. "Agent Brandt, please keep your voice down, you-"

But he didn't stop, raising his voice even more. "It just takes _time_? Maybe we don't have time. Just what the hell do you think you're doing, turning up half dead at Benji's place in the middle of the night?"

"Brandt," the English guy said, his voice soothing, but something warning in his eyes.

"No, Benji, this is serious, just look at him, and what about Luther, huh? Is he all alone out there now?"

Ethan's eyes lit up. He was still shaking, but his features had suddenly regained something boyish and attentive.

The man to his right – Benji – noticed the change contrary to the other one, who was now turning back to his coffee, ruffling his hair and mumbling an apology in answer of the evil stare the lab coat woman was giving him.

"You do remember Luther, right?" Benji asked, his voice somehow thin, as if he was hurt by something.

There was something. Ethan's thoughts were racing, but everything in his head was chaos.

Brandt had taken a big gulp of coffee and was now staring at Hunt's contemplating features.

"You know, a big black guy, kind of intimidating if you don't know him. Quite good with computers," Benji tried to help.

"You gotta be kidding me," Brandt murmured, turning away again in order to hide his frustration. This was ridiculous.

But that moment something in Ethan's head snapped, as if the centre piece of a jigsaw puzzle had finally been found and only now the whole picture was making sense.

Despite sitting relatively steady on the bed, he felt like he was losing his balance at the weight of the memories rushing back. The room tilted a bit and came back into focus, and Ethan felt a steadying hand on his shoulder. He looked to his right.

"Benji," he said, a question without sounding like one. The technician's face brightened considerably. Dr. Lee looked up from her notes. Ethan turned to his left, where Brandt was expectantly clasping his paper cup, eyebrows raised. "Brandt!" He swallowed. "I need your help."

/\/\/\/\

There was a sound in Skye's head that she couldn't place. As if someone was hitting something with an icepick, something that was too solid to be pierced. Her vision started out as a small black-framed slit, but grew steadily until she saw a pair of bright blue high heels inches from her face. Only now she realised she was lying on the floor. She tried to get up, but her right arm wouldn't support her weight. Her throat felt parched. Skye turned her head instead.

"You crashed my E-type." Kirsten Caulfield stood right in front of her, hands on her hips and a condescending look in her eyes.

Within a second, Agent Holt's head was clear. She sat up. To her slight surprise she wasn't restrained in any way, but she didn't let it show. The cut on her right arm had been bandaged. She got up on her feet. "It was a horrible colour, anyway."

Caulfield looked away for a second, smiling to herself as if she couldn't quite believe Holt. Then, not particularly hard but astonishingly fast, her right hand curled into a fist. Caulfield's right hook came as a surprise, to say the least. Skye gasped briefly, and felt for her nose. Her fingers came away bloody. Disbelievingly the agent looked at the other woman.

"It was Jacob's favourite," Caulfield spat. With that she turned around and left the room through a door at the far wall.

"What, that's it?" Skye called after her.

"No, Miss Holt, that's not it."

The agent turned back around. Through a second door, a man had entered. He was lean and tall, about six foot, maybe more. His dark hair was short-cropped and started greying at the temples. His small eyes were almost black. He was wearing thin round spectacles. His upright posture and his weirdly sand-coloured shirt gave him the air of an alert meercat. With a touch of Hannibal Lecter - but with the mask. Skye shivered involuntarily.

"About time we get to meet again," Philipp Nolan said, after carefully closing the door. Skye noticed neither he nor Caulfield had bothered to lock it. They must be awfully sure about their game. "Would you like a drink?"

/\/\/\/\

"I never left D.C.," Ethan began once Dr. Lee had finished asking him questions about his current state. She had left the room. "They got me before I could do anything."

"So are you saying Luther is sitting alone in Canada now?" Brandt asked.

Ethan looked confused, then he seemed to recall something. He shook his head. "Forget about Canada. Also, Luther was never part of this op. That was all cover because what we were planning to do was unsanctioned."

"So that message about radio silence..."

"Pre-installed. All fake."

Accolade briefly flashed over Benji's face. "So where is Luther?"

"I don't know. Like I said, he wasn't part of this. We assumed if we got busted he would cover us despite everything."

"Then who is we?" Brandt asked.

"Me and Skye."

"Skye?" they said in unison.

Ethan nodded. "She came to me after we'd come back from Germany. She told me about her suspicion, about the evidence she had found. She said she wasn't sure if it made sense, but it did. I believe she was right."

"Right about what?" Brandt asked before Benji could say anything.

"The source of Nolan's network. She has seen through the double-crossing. She's the only one who knew about all of it, by coincidence. She didn't even know that she knew about so much, but she's made the connections. All of it led right back to D.C. She had found a code, and she wanted to check it out."

Brandt wasn't sure he understood. He was used to Ethan's crisp and clear descriptions of the situation, not this gibberish. "What code?"

But Benji interrupted, sounding somewhat exasperated. "Are you telling me that right now Skye is going after Nolan – alone?"

Hunt looked uncomfortable, but there was no way around it. "I don't know," he admitted. "I don't know what happened after they got me. I don't even know what day it is to be honest."

Benji stared at his friend, open-mouthed.

"When I saw that she was right I agreed to help her, but we knew we would never get it authorised. So she told me about her plan and-"

"And you let her do it?!" Benji suddenly shouted.

Everyone was shocked. Benji Dunn was usually the calmest person in the room, always a joke ready at hand, a somewhat stabilising factor. None of them had ever seen him angry.

"You just said yes?!"

It took Ethan a second to get out of his surprise. "Benji, she had a point in saying-"

"She always has a point, but that's no reason to let her go kill herself!"

"I never planned to let her go on her own," Hunt tried to reason. "None of this should have happened."

"You're bloody right none of this should have happened," Benji shouted.

"Calm down, Benji."

"Calm...!" he continued to shout, but just as without warning as he had started, he stopped. He let himself fall onto the daybed and rubbed his face. It seemed as if all his strength had suddenly deserted him.

"Benji," Ethan said in a hushed voice. "We're going to find her. I'm sure she's somewhere safe, I made it out as well. And then we're going to get Nolan."

Benji nodded slowly. "Why did I have to introduce the only two people nuts enough to do something like that?"

/\/\/\/\

Two doors, unlocked, but almost certainly holding back-up. A mirror, interrogation-room style. Definitely they were being watched. Two cameras, in opposite corners. A small black monitor on the wall. The narrow table appeared to be fixed to the ground, but it had nice sharp edges. Possible weapon. Same went for the two chairs. They seemed solid, their silvery surface gleaming in the neon light. No windows.

This assessment went through Holt's mind within a second as she forced herself to keep her head. Something was wrong with her, but she couldn't pin-point it. Maybe it was still the after-effect of having been knocked out and some blood-loss. She knew that was not it, but there was no time for that now.

"I'm sorry, I can only offer you some water. Though I hear your drink is Vodka Tonic." Nolan placed a small plastic bottle on the table, and sat down, motioning her to do the same.

Skye's gaze stuck to the bottle for one endless second. It was completely normal, as if he'd just bought it at the airport or the next supermarket, but it looked delicious. She could see it had been cooled, the fogged blue-tinted surface suggested it. And now that one perfect drop of water slowly gathered and rolled down alongside it, leaving a stripe of clear plastic. Holt realised she had never been so thirsty in her life. What was wrong with her? She need to get a grip on herself. This was important. She needed to listen. Energetically she broke loose.

Nolan just shrugged when she was still standing, and continued. "Are you aware that you killed the two highest members of a particular mafia family that's quite close to my heart?" He sounded honestly interested. "Do you even comprehend how many people currently want to slit your throat? Fortunately I still have some say in this, and I don't like slitting throats. Too... bloody. Though sometimes necessary. So you're welcome."

He looked at her, expectant of some reaction, but he was disappointed. He sighed, like an adult would sigh about today's youth's non-existent manners, and took up his monologue again. "Of course you're right. You're agency does quite a good job of protecting your identities, and your location. I admit, I couldn't find you, even though D.C. was a good guess as it turns out. I thought it was a bit too on the nose, you know. Well. When you started resurfacing all by yourself, I just couldn't help myself. Watching you and your little friend was just too much fun, so I couldn't just have you killed." He scrutinised her. She held his gaze. These small black eyes like polished buttons. "I actually like your style, Miss Holt. One single shot, and it's done with. Quick and cold-blooded. You look disbelieving. Don't you remember your own crimes?"

Nolan reached into his pocket for something Holt couldn't see. The monitor came to life, showing footage from a security camera in the corner of some office. It took Skye a second because of the weird angle, but then she realised with a cold shiver down her spine what she was seeing. Two walls of the office were entirely glass. The floor was sparkling with fragments. Two men lay knocked out in different corners, a third one was on the floor, partially obscured by a blond woman who had her back to the camera.

It was that dreadful day in Toronto. Paralysed she watched Benji flinch when she pulled the trigger. There was no sound coming with the tape, but seeing Reinhardt's head sag to the side was already enough.

"See – bam, and gone. That was one," Nolan said calmly.

The picture changed to a wide nondescript hall. Skye didn't want to watch this. She couldn't concentrate anymore. Th agent realised she was trembling slightly. She knew she should do something, knock this man's head against the table until his skull cracked, but right now she couldn't even bring herself to move. Her eyes darted back to the water bottle and she moistened her lips.

"Don't you just love this," Nolan chuckled, "the way you used the handcuffs, I have to say." He was actually laughing.

Horrified, Skye looked at him. His glance was fixed to the monitor.

"...aaaand – bam. Two Reinhardts in one day. If you knew how many people have tried and failed before you."

Skye watched herself stand still for a second, clutching the gun while blood started pooling underneath Reinhardt's head. Again. Then she picked something up, and ran across the hall, almost out of the camera's frame. Skye swallowed when she saw herself kneeling down next to Benji's unconscious figure.

"That's the boring part now," Nolan said distractedly. "Wait... here comes the good bit."

The agent was wondering what he could possibly still have up his sleeve, and prepared herself for her shoot-out at Caulfield Manor, or maybe when Ethan and she had assaulted their guards and managed to – Ethan. Why hadn't she thought of him earlier? Where was he?

"There we go," Nolan said.

Holt looked back up at the screen. A small room. Another office. A huge desk, and something not quite discernible in front of that, the angle was to steep. The door was thrown open, and she saw herself again, pressing her back against it, holding it shut. Involuntarily, she stepped closer.

"No," she said quietly, while the monitor-version of herself was looking around in search of the source of the gunshot she had heard. From this perspective she saw Richard Ferner flinch at the sound of the door closing again. "No, I did not kill him," she said forcefully, and looked back at Nolan, who was grinning and visibly enjoying this. "That was you."

"Oh really? Because it really looks as if you shoot him, see, right there." He motioned back at the screen just in time to make her watch it.

Skye wanted to shout, no, to remain really calm and then surprise him with an assault, no, to... she sat down. She couldn't breath. This wasn't happening. Who was he to accuse her, of things she hadn't done at that?

"No," Skye said again, and suddenly she managed to break through that wall that had started to form in her head. From one moment to the next, she was perfectly clear. "You have no right to accuse me of anything."

"Oh?"

"You," she said, fury in her voice, "have made a business out of covering up crimes, of making things I don't even want to think about appear legal. And it was _you_ who killed this man!" She stood up again and took a step towards him. Despite her small stature there was a strange sense of authority about her. He instinctively felt respect – and he didn't like it.

He smiled sardonically. "Is that what you call it?"

"What do you call it?"

He pronounced every word very carefully. "Online Marketing Management."

Skye huffed in disgust. "The only reason that Cedric and Lionel Reinhardt are dead is because you used them as bait. Because you were too much of a coward to face us yourself."

Nolan looked at her, tilting his head as if this was very interesting, then he stood up and made for the door next to the mirror. "Your friend, by the way," he said, and waited until she'd turned her head to face him. "The one who killed three of my men before you started running? I believe his name is Hunt."

Holt's face didn't show any reaction.

"If I were you I'd show a little more respect next time we talk. For the sake of his well-being."


	36. Done and Dusted (4)

Nolan watched her through the mirror. This woman wasn't stupid, he was sure she was perfectly aware that she was being watched, but now there was no immediate reason for her to keep up her facade. She was shaking her head, over and over again. He couldn't tell if she was aware of her motion, but he grinned again when she reached for the bottle. Satisfied he saw how she drank, swallow after swallow, until it was empty, and she was taking a deep breath.

"I just hope it works this time," he said without bothering to turn to the man who was now moving to stand next to him. The unspoken 'For your sake'was hovering in the air.

"She's already had more in her system than I thought, thanks to the cut on her arm. No wonder the injection immediately after that knocked her out all night, it was too much too soon. At least that's what that doctor said." Christensen's voice was too calm and unimpressed for Nolan's liking. "But this is gonna do the trick."

"We'll see about that."

In the room, the woman was suddenly holding on to the edge of the table, caught by a sudden fit of trembling. Eventually she slid down and remained lying on the floor.

Nolan sighed impatiently while Christensen's face paled a little. Without another attempt of an explanation, he went back into the interrogation-room. Nolan left, disgusted.

/\/\/\/\

"What did you get yourself into this time, Agent Hunt?" Everyone turned around to the door. The voice belonged to a tall, dark-skinned woman with long black hair. When she saw Benji's sunken figure she wondered if she'd rather should have asked him instead.

"Hi, Jane," Hunt greeted her as best as he could.

"Good to see you," Brandt said.

Benji simply waved briefly.

"What's wrong?" Jane asked, scanning Ethan's injuries, Brandt's exhausted expression, and Benji's uncharacteristic obvious melancholy.

"You tell her," Brandt said to Ethan. "I believe you left out a few details anyway."

/\/\/\/\

One week earlier, Agent Hunt had been stopped just outside the infirmary.

"Ethan, can I talk to you for a minute?" Skye asked.

"Sure," Hunt said.

The woman looked around, slightly uncomfortable, which was why he motioned across the hallway to an unoccupied small conference room. Holt nodded.

"It's about what happened in Sweden. About Christensen," she began, after closing the glass door behind her and taking a deep breath.

Ethan raised his eyebrows and leaned against the table, half sitting down on the desktop.

"You were wondering how I noticed the connection so fast, remember?" She sighed. "You were right to be suspicious," she continued with the ghost of a smile. "It was more than just Hamburg, or the grip of the mission. You never believed that anyway. I know I should have told you sooner, but I needed to be sure."

Ethan waited patiently.

"I believe that Marcus Atwood and Moritz Christensen are the same person."

Ethan straightened, about to ask her if she was sure, when she already continued, stating her suspicion in that sober way that reminded him that she could be a pretty good team leader herself.

"In fact, I am very sure of it. They're using masks, and that's what makes Nolan's network so good. This must still be Musgrave's doing, only Nolan – contrary to Davian – is now actively using all that stuff."

 _Davian is a weed,_ Ethan heard John Musgrave's voice in his head. _You cut him out, two more spring up just like him the next day_. Bastard.

"In the papers he was carrying with him I found a passport. I can't guarantee it one hundred percent, but I think the name was Christensen, and the nationality was definitely Swedish. I'm the only one of the Randers operation who was actually face to face with Atwood. I first realised when I had to dance with him, and when Luther said they had mask machines things were starting to make sense." She shrugged slightly, expectant of an answer.

"I knew there was more to it," Ethan couldn't help saying. "Did he notice? Christensen?"

Skye shook her head. "I doubt it. He made some remark, but in Denmark he saw me for about ten seconds as a mousy chambermaid. I don't think he ultimately made the connection."

"But if he did, that would make you a person of interest," Hunt noticed. "After everything that's happened with you and Nolan already. You could be in serious danger."

"Person of interest?" she smiled. "You're exaggerating, I'm not in danger. But we have to do something."

"It's certainly a theory worth checking out." He paused before his next question. "Does Benji know?"

She shook her head again. "I thought it's better to keep him out of all this. After the explosion they probably think he's dead, so at the moment he's safe."

Ethan found himself nodding.

"But I need to tell you something else first, and you have to tell me if it makes sense. We might have more intel than we thought."

"What are you saying?"

"I might know where Nolan is. But I'm gonna need your help."

"What do you have in mind?"

"I was told something by an insider in Toronto. For a long time I thought it was code, but it's much simpler. Does the name Mot Clé mean anything to you?" she asked.

/\/\/\/\

"Skye worked it out," Ethan said, getting clearer by the sentence. "She was the only one who actually could. We spent the past week comparing what little footage we had of Atwood and Christensen, and went over the documents again – she was right, it added up. Believe it or not, but Nolan was closing in on us. He's right here in D.C., in front of us. We've done some investigating and found his hideout. It's the same deal as Hamburg, they bought real estate under a clean name and are setting up their network now. It's in an old motel, now called the Mot Clé."

"Moclay," Benji muttered to himself.

"And why the hell didn't you tell anyone about this?" Brandt interrupted Ethan for the first time.

"Because we had not one piece of evidence to support Skye's theory. The camera hadn't caught the passport for some reason, and everything in Hamburg blew up. Besides, you're the one telling us every day how Hunley's watching everything you authorise."

"Oh, so this is my fault now?" Brandt said.

"No," Ethan replied. "We just didn't want you to get into trouble for what could have been nothing. You could never have sanctioned an unbacked theory of the World Heritage Bombers."

"So you went there by yourself?" Jane asked, starting to understand.

"We never planned to assassinate anyone, if that's what you're thinking. We just would have needed something to justify an actual mission. We had to be very careful with our stake-out at the Mot Clé. They have cameras everywhere. But there's a guy who we believe to be working for Nolan who's selling what he can get his hands on in the backyard to whoever wants it. Probably under the radar of his boss. That's how we tried to get close."

"We have to go there. Now." Benji's voice was so different, almost cold, that Jane involuntarily looked at him to make sure it was the same Benji that had helped them get through Ghost Protocol. The Brit was already standing, when Dr. Lee came back, wordlessly acknowledging the small assembly.

"You are not going to believe this," she started, slightly gesturing with her clipboard. "I got the results of your blood test, and it's not just some drug. This looks like what was supposed to become the finished version of the Rabbit's Foot."

The stunned silence was broken by Ethan asking, "The Rabbit's Foot is a drug?"

"How do you still not know about this?" Brandt asked back.

Hunt just shrugged. He had not particularly cared about it after returning from Shanghai, and even less after his honeymoon.

"What we codenamed the Rabbit's Foot is the basic ingredient for this," the doctor said. "You've been lucky, to say the least. You only had minimal amounts in your system, presumably administered into your bloodstream through the cuts and the puncture wound on your arm. Although I think actual ingestion would have been even worse. That's gonna keep the lab busy for some time, coming up with an antidote."

"If that," Brandt motioned at Ethan, "is the low dose..."

"It clashes with adrenaline, that's the problem," Dr. Lee interrupted. "If you had been calm the moment it got into your system, it wouldn't have got this bad."

Benji suddenly looked very pale. "Is it deadly?" he asked quietly.

"Possibly," Lee said with a sigh.

"Possibly?" Jane and Brandt repeated at the same time.

"At the moment we assume that it doesn't kill, or at least that's not what it's intended for," the doctor elaborated. "But it makes you think it does. You saw how it messed you up. I can't tell for sure yet, but what I've seen on you – and like I said, you had the low dose – you got everything from a racing heart to fever, and who knows how much of the memory loss was caused by it. It definitely impairs judgement, hallucinations are a possibility, leading all the way up to brain damage. But that's technically speculation, we're still running tests to see how much damage it can do, and if it's reversible."

Benji sat back down, making an exasperated sound. Lee frowned.

"Benji," Jane started soothingly, but was interrupted when the door flew open again.

/\/\/\/\

Waking up because the blood flowing from your nose starts dripping into your mouth is not a nice way, but it was effective enough for Agent Holt. The bittersweet metallic taste combined with a foul feeling in her mouth caused her to cough before she got a grip on herself. Why was her nose bleeding anyway?

She was leaning against the wall in a strange angle, half lying on the floor. Her head was ringing with what sounded suspiciously like the intro of _Thunderstruck_. Her back hurt. Cringing, she got into a more sitting position. The room lazily slid into focus with a couple of seconds delay. She attempted to breath calmly. It was dark around her, the only light was sneaking in from the narrow windows above the door. The actual window was blacked out by paint, she assumed. Her head hurt.

This room could have been used in any horror movie, she thought. It looked like a big living room, even a bit like a hotel lobby, with random armchairs out of velvety-looking red fabric. Only the poor lighting condition, the wallpaper that was peeling off, and the enormous amount of dust that had settled on the furniture and was hovering through the air, gave it a creepy air of neglect and decay. A mouse was caught dead in a trap in a corner, and apparently had been for some time.

Nothing was to be seen or heard, but Skye wasn't entirely sure if she could rely on her senses right now. The moment she tried to get up she started shaking so badly that she remained where she was. She just slid back down on the floor and tried to make herself as small as possible.

"Kiddo, can you hear me?" someone said.

A ghost. He wasn't real. Couldn't be.

Skye wanted to be somewhere else. As far away from here as possible. She started thinking about this, trying to occupy her mind to distract herself from the pain and the cold and the ghost.

Maybe Italy. She wondered if she would ever get around to see it now. She wondered if it was nice.


	37. Done and Dusted (5)

The young man stopped short at the threshold of the infirmary when he was met with such an unexpected amount of people.

"Crover?" Benji asked. "What are you doing here?"

He swallowed, then straightened, nodded at all of them collectively, and eventually turned to Brandt.

"There's been a – I was told I'd find you here, Agent Brandt, sir. I think – well, we got a weird message last night, about a break-in in a safe house."

"I'm sorry, I really don't have time for that now," the analyst began.

"What safe house?" Ethan asked at once. "Here in D.C.?"

"Yes," Crover answered surprised. "One Nine Six. How did you know that?"

"That was our rendezvous point," Ethan quickly explained. "In case something went wrong."

"Only you went to Benji's place instead," Brandt said.

"I did?"

"You bled on my sofa," the techie said grimly.

Jane ignored the boys, and turned to Crover instead. "When was that?"

He straightened his glasses. "It was last unlocked at two a.m. last night, but I -"

"By whom?" Jane asked.

"By Agent Holt, ma'am," Crover said, and glanced at Benji. "But I doubt she was the one who raided it of all the back-up supplies."

"What?" Benji breathed.

"How come I only know about that now?" Brandt asked forcefully, causing Crover to shrink back. "That's a high-level security breach we're talking about."

"Well, the call reached us only two hours later, but no one took it seriously because it was Agent Luther Stickell who found the place like this, and-"

"How can you not take him seriously?" Benji almost shouted.

"Be- because it can't have been him. He's – he's in Canada," Crover stammered. "The night shift believed it was some sort of mix-up, hence the investigation was delayed until-"

"A mix-up?!" Now Benji _was_ shouting.

Crover swallowed again and looked thoroughly uncomfortable, with five people staring at him. "I... I don't know exactly what went wrong, I only came in this morning. I thought it was weird, too, and checked the voice pattern of Agent Stickell's call, and it's definitely him. It was his phone, too, and the coordinates match with D.C. So I took a closer look at the operation in Canada and found that it was faked."

Everyone but the doctor shot a glare at Agent Hunt that Crover didn't understand. "That's – that's why I came to you at once, if someone's manipulating our data we might have a leak somewhere..."

"Forget about that," the analyst said, got up and faced the young technician. "We need to check out that safe house, and I'm gonna need Stickell's message, ASAP."

A bit startled, Crover nodded. "Yes, sir. Should I send forensics?"

"No," Brandt said at once. "No, this needs to stay between us." He looked at all of them in turn. "We can't launch an investigation for one agent who _might_ have gone missing on an unsanctioned mission. You know that. Protocol states to disavow."

Everyone stayed quiet, but even Benji nodded.

Brandt turned back to Crover again. "See if you can manage to track her phone. Also I need someone to check her flat, maybe she went there after all."

"I'm gonna do that," Jane said. "You should go and check One Nine Six."

Benji nodded determinedly, and also with quite an amount of gratefulness in light of his friends taking over like this.

"You did good, Crover," Brandt added, and gave him a brief pat on the shoulder when they all passed him on the way to the door.

Ethan Hunt was still sitting on the bed and sighed deeply.

/\/\/\/\

Luther was incredibly thirsty. He didn't remember how he got here, just that someone had rammed a needle into his neck and suddenly he was here, in this room that seemed to be connected to nothing. Was that possible? A single room as a different plane of existence?

He shook his head. Where the hell did that thought come from? They had given him something, that was the only possibility, and same went for the kid, considering how she was holding up.

Luther hadn't seen her at first. It had felt like a long time until he even realised he was awake, and she had been lying curled up behind an old sofa. Only when she had moved he realised he wasn't alone in the room.

Skye was asleep. In fact she seemed thoroughly out of it. Her forehead felt hot, but all he could do was put her on the sofa to try and make her comfortable. The door had a security lock, impossible to open without tools. His phone was gone, and he couldn't even remember if he had carried a gun when he came here. There was a nagging thought about a safe house in his head, but he couldn't grasp it. He felt dizzy.

Then he spotted a water bottle next to the door.

/\/\/\/\

"Uh," said Crover before, still standing in his spot at the door of the infirmary.

"Yes?" Ethan Hunt asked.

"There is a witness – of sorts."

"What do you mean?"

"The team Agent Stickell was with brought a woman in, just an hour ago. Apparently on his orders, but they don't know why. They said they would wait for him to come back, but... well." Crover wasn't entirely sure whether he should tell him this, but after all this was Ethan Hunt. He was talking official business with _the_ Ethan Hunt.

"Give me one minute," Hunt said. "And distract Lee."

Crover swallowed.

A short time later he was walking Ethan Hunt to the room where the witness was being held. He kept throwing uneasy glances to the agent. Hunt had exchanged the hospital gown for his own clothes again, complete with dried blood on them as they were, and looked remarkably casual rolling the IV stand with the drip that was still connected to his arm along with him. He seemed a bit unsteady, but was covering it up well. Dr. Lee would not be happy, Crover thought.

"She's in here," the young man said, motioning at the respective door.

"Thanks," Hunt said, in a tone that automatically added a silent 'You can go now'.

Once on his own, he entered.

It was clear the woman had not expected someone looking like him. Beat up and pale, with an IV in his arm he probably wasn't the model interrogator right now. But as far as Ethan was concerned that didn't matter.

He sat down in front of her, calmly waiting for her to break the silence.

"So?!" she finally did.

"What happened tonight?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes, somehow using her entire body to exaggerate the expression. "Look, the only mistake I made was running into that cop tonight. Who are you, anyway? You're not police, do you know how long I've been in here? What gives you the right to arrest me?"

"You're not under arrest," Ethan said. "As soon as you tell me what exactly happened you're free to go."

She leaned forward, halfway over the table, and talked with big hand-gestures. "Fine. I bought a fake ID from a guy, then I ran into some friends, we had a good time, they did some coke, I did _not._ And then the cops busted us and this guy saw my ID and freaked, so apparently it wasn't worth the money after all. And he snatched it anyway. That's the story. Can I go now?"

"Can you describe him?"

"Tall. Black. Moustache. Bit too relaxed to be a cop. Probably close to retirement. Or quitting. Can I _go_ now?"

"What did you tell him?"

"He wanted to know where I got it. I panicked." She clenched her fists and her teeth. "So I snitched."

"You told him where to go?"

"Yes, the Galaxy. It's called something else now, but I can never remember."

"The Mot Clé."

"Yeah, I knew it was something French."

Ethan stood up without another word, his hand tightly around the IV stand.

"Are you okay?" the woman asked dubiously and leaned back in her chair.

But Ethan had already left.

/\/\/\/\

"Now we got the cops on us!" Kirsten Caulfield slammed the door shut.

"Excuse me?" Nolan said, almost bored. He was annoyed with her attitude of late.

"Apparently one of your fucking employees sold shit behind the building and now we have a cop in custody."

"What?" He wasn't quite alarmed, his voice sounded more intrigued. Maybe a little alarmed.

"The same guy you made me take on back in Denmark, who let them crash Jacob's E-type."

"Jesus, Kirsten, will you get over that car."

"I swear, if you don't do something about them, I will."

Nolan stared daggers at her. "You can go ahead to Caracas on the first flight if you like."

Caulfield stared back. "Did I mention that Moritz shot him the dish? Now we have a drugged policeman on our hands. They're gonna come looking for him."

"It's under control."

"You have nothingunder control, I keep telling you that."

"Where is he?" Nolan interrupted her brusquely.

"With Holt. Since it's the only fucking secured room in here."

Nolan considered. "We're gonna finish with them here and then we ditch D.C."

Caulfield, who had crossed her arms, nodded satisfied. "Finally you're being reasonable."

/\/\/\/\

 _You're gonna freeze to death if you don't move. You hear me? You gotta move. Now._

Skye wasn't sure who was talking to her, but the voice had a point, because it was incredibly cold. She had fallen asleep, or unconscious. Her head hurt immensely, and somehow she couldn't see clearly. But that might also have been due to the strange lighting. The dust hovering through the air was so dense that it almost looked like smoke, swallowing a good portion of what little light made it through the windows. For a while Skye watched fascinated how the dust changed colours from white to blue, green and purple, taking shapes that reminded her of the lava lamp she used to have in her room as a teenager. It was mesmerising, and it took her minutes to focus again.

Agent Holt fought herself up, and realised she was on a sofa. The fabric felt rough. Merely moving sent up new waves of dust particles. This time they looked like the sea, like waves crashing together around her head, almost making her fall again.

But the movement brought pain, and pain cleared her head, at least a little. The dried blood on her face had formed an uncomfortable crust, especially with the strand of hair that was stuck in it. Skye still stood bent over, holding onto the back of the armchair. She tried to stand up straight. Her back hurt as if she'd fallen, and the dusty air made it even harder to breath than it already was with her parched throat.

 _One thing at a time. Come on, Skye T. You've been through worse._

Where the hell was she? And then, without warning, it all came back to her, crashing her brain and triggering a new fit of trembling. She'd crashed Nolan's headquarters along with Ethan and everything had gone wrong. There was no way of knowing how much time had passed, but it felt like a lot, and no one would be looking for them. Anyway, should any member of the team be caught or killed – she knew the words, that wasn't how you played the game. In this business, you either helped yourself or gave up entirely. But none of that mattered, because Nolan still had Ethan and she needed to find him.

 _There was someone here. Find him._

"Ghost..." Skye whispered, trying to see who was talking.

 _There are no ghosts._

She turned back around.

The dust now looked like foggy stripes hovering in the air, and obscured a completely black silhouette that stood in front of the door. Now it started moving, slowly coming closer.

Skye shrank back, lost her balance and fell, causing her vision to pulse red for a second. Any noise got stuck in her throat. There was no sound at all when the figure moved, seemingly hovering over the ground as it crept nearer.

In that moment, Skye Holt was hit by the certainty that she was going to die in this place. And, she realised, she did not want to die.

Someone touched her. Helped her up. She was back on the sofa. There was a hand on her shoulder, then feeling her pulse.

"Skye?" Luther tried.

The woman stirred. It was as if she tried to cough but was too weak to actually go through with it, resulting in small fits of trembling that shook her whole body.

He reached for the water bottle. There was still some left.

She almost-coughed again without really moving. "Don't drink it," she said. It was barely a whisper. Her flawless British accent seemed strangely out of place.

"Kiddo, I need you to stay awake."

Holt turned her head agonisingly slowly to face him. Dusky as it was, her eyes seemed to be plain black, without any difference between iris and pupil. They were open just a crack.

He squeezed her shoulder. "You and me really have a knack for getting stuck together. But you're not alone," he added. And then, more on instinct, "It's me. It's Luther."

"Luther..." she murmured, although he wasn't sure if she actually recognised him or was just repeating what he said. "Have you ever been to Italy?"

You would really have to know Luther Stickell to notice the surprise at the question. "Yeah, I have."

He could hardly hear her speak up again, but he thought he'd seen the corners of her mouth twitch upwards. "Tell me."


	38. Done and Dusted (6)

Benji was about to step onto a curious dark stain on the concrete step in front of the safe house, but stopped himself in the last second.

"That looks like blood," he said to Brandt.

The analyst frowned. "The question is, whose."

Benji swallowed, and with it seemingly all colour vanished from his face while he couldn't look away from the stains anymore.

"Come on." Brandt's voice brought him back to reality. They entered the safe house together. Nothing was left. Every cupboard had been forced open, right down to the secret wall panel holding the guns.

"What if she managed to get this far but someone got to her and forced her to open it?" he suggested quietly.

"Possible," Brandt said. "Although no agent should-" He interrupted himself, thinking about the blood at the threshold. "Look, Benji, there's a ton of explanations for this. We don't know exactly how much Nolan managed to extract from our system before you got on to him in Toronto. He could have had the access codes to this and the timing is just a coincidence." The analyst shrugged, and met Benji's eyes.

"I found her notes back in Denmark," Benji suddenly said. "I don't know how she got it, but she was trying to figure out what Mot Clé means. She just had it misspelt. Maybe she heard it somewhere. She had tried to crack it, like a code, but obviously that didn't work. If I had asked her what it meant, maybe she would be..." The techie couldn't think of any word that wouldn't imply the possibility that something bad had happened to her.

Brandt's phone rang. It was Jane, confirming Skye wasn't in her flat.

"This place is cold, too," Brandt said. "There's nothing left."

"She's not here, she's not there, and hasn't turned up at HQ either, I've already checked with them," Carter broke it down.

Brandt nodded. "All right."

"Count me in, for whatever you do now," Jane said.

Brandt agreed to meet up at HQ again, then he rang off.

"We're gonna go there," the analyst said to Benji. "We can't make it official in any way, but, hell. That's the whole job, isn't it?"

Benji shook his head. "I can't ask this of you."

"As far as I'm concerned we have nobody we have to answer to, so if we deem it necessary we go do it. After all, I'm no secretary." And that was as emotional as Brandt was going to get.

/\/\/\/\

Skye didn't know if it was still cold. Her body had gone numb, but she was still trembling. She wasn't aware of pain anymore either, in fact she didn't feel much of anything. Except for thirst. The stuff they had given her was in the water, she was dimly aware of that, but if it made her feel numb it was good, right? Because she didn't want to feel anything.

Slowly, she forced her eyes open. There was the bottle they had left her. And there – what was that? Something was moving, blocking her view, touching her. Soft fur brushed along her neck and over her face. The agent struggled to turn her head to see what was going on.

It was a cat, sitting in front of her with its head tilted in curiosity. One ear was slightly torn. Its long scruffy fur was of a reddish brown, some patches so dark that they looked almost black, other spots ranged all the way to sand-coloured, so that it was impossible to pinpoint a base colour. The tip of its fluffy tail kept twitching, kicking up dust. The cat kept looking at Skye, and eventually meowed once.

"What are you looking at..." she answered in a whisper.

The cat got up and came closer, rubbing its head softly against her forehead. It was the most comforting thing Skye could remember ever having felt. It began purring as it lay down next to her, snuggling up to her neck.

In the process of doing so it knocked over the bottle, and the water spilled over the dusty floor, seeping into the carpet.

/\/\/\/\

"They got Luther, too," Ethan said after telling them about the witness. "We have to assume he went after her when he got nothing from HQ."

All of them had assembled in a conference room.

"I'll go in," Benji said matter-of-factly. He couldn't stay still and kept fidgeting with his hands.

"No, you won't," Ethan said. "We need you on the outside."

Benji's hands clenched into fists. "I'm not discussing this, Ethan."

"Benji, all of this is my fault, I will get them out of this."

"Don't you think you've done enough already?" Benji asked.

"You're hurt, you shouldn't even be here," Brandt ventured to take sides.

"We need you on the outside, monitoring," Ethan persisted.

"I'm not going to sit somewhere watching god knows what go wrong on a computer screen." The techie shoved his hands into his trouser pockets to keep still.

"It's not going to go wrong if you let me go in," Ethan persisted.

Benji shot him a glare. "That's what this is about, isn't it? You think I don't have it in me."

"Boys," Jane attempted to intervene, but was ignored.

"You know that's not what I meant." Ethan swayed a bit.

"That's exactly what you meant, but I think you're forgetting that it wouldn't even have come to this if it wasn't for you."

"Benji, we are going to fix this," Brandt said.

"Listen, I know this is my fault," Ethan began at the same time.

"Well, yes!" Benji shouted.

"For crying out loud!" Jane suddenly yelled over them. "Will you _shut_ up?" She turned to Benji. "I know this is not a situation you would have wished for, we understand that, Benji. But we're working on it and if we start fighting now we're not exactly much of a help to Skye _or_ Luther, are we? We're just wasting time."

Benji had opened his mouth to fire a response at her, but closed it again.

"We need to stick together for this." Jane turned to Ethan. "But Brandt's right, too, you're hurt, and you should be in the infirmary and not on a rescue mission. So save it," she said, cutting off any reply. "I'll go in." All of them looked at her, but Carter didn't have the patience to try and detect some meaning in their expressions. "And now make the hell up."

"I can cut this short," Dr. Lee suddenly said. Benji flinched; he hadn't heard her enter. Decidedly the doctor emptied a syringe into Ethan's drip.

"What..." the agent began.

"I need him for blood tests. He's not going anywhere," the doctor said, visibly annoyed.

"That's also an idea," Jane said, when Ethan's eyes slowly closed and Brandt and Lee had to catch him.

/\/\/\/\

Christensen didn't like Kirsten Caulfield particularly. She reminded him of one of those small jungle frogs, what were they called? Vibrant and mesmerising, but fatally poisonous to the touch. The way she paraded into their office now, with her blue camo-print jacket and skintight black trousers, didn't hold much promise of improving his mood.

"The cop is useless. He drank the entire bottle that _someone_ left in the room. He won't be a problem. But I got something else for you," she added monotonously, and shoved a laptop towards Nolan. He looked intrigued again, but just barely.

"What am I looking at?"

"CCTV of the airport in Hamburg. From a week ago."

"What's that supposed to help us?" Christensen huffed from his corner of the room.

"Look here." The woman pointed.

Almost against his will Christensen turned his head to catch sight of the screen.

"Is that..." Nolan began, but then just hunched over the laptop more closely.

Now Christensen stood up and took a closer look himself. It was black and white footage, slightly grainy from being enlarged. But it was quite obvious that the woman sitting on the plastic seat was the agent in their holding cell. For a second Christensen didn't comprehend how that was supposed to be of value. But as he kept watching, someone shoved a cup into the agent's hand and took a seat next to her. It took a few more seconds until this other person turned his head and they got a clear image, but then Caulfield pressed a key and froze the perfect shot of the man.

"That son of a bitch," Christensen muttered. "How..."

"It doesn't matter how," Nolan said, and looked almost happy. "The point is that Dunn is alive."

/\/\/\/\

"There are gonna be cameras," Benji said. "They've always had cameras everywhere. If you find a server I can get in."

Jane nodded.

"We can't rely on radio. They've managed to break it up every time so far. I suspect they have one of our own scramblers in they collection. They're also going to have considerable manpower," he continued. "We need to be stealthy, we won't be able to take out all of them."

"Which we don't want anyway," Brandt said. "We need intel on... well, everything they've got."

Benji mumbled something, but nodded. "Since Ethan is out cold we don't know anything specific about the layout, but I've found the plans of the motel."

"That has to be good enough," Brandt said. "We'll have Lee standing by in the van with you."

Benji didn't say anything, but it was clear to see how upset he was about sitting this one out in a van.

Someone cleared his throat. The three agents turned around.

"I could be in the van," Crover said.

Benji stared.

"I can do it. If someone connects me to the server I can monitor. And if the radio does break up I'll just cut everything. At least then we're all flying blind." Crover hunched his shoulders slightly when no one said anything for a few seconds. The other three agents exchanged a few glances. Crover wasn't sure what any of them meant. Then Benji looked at him and nodded.

"So the only question is how we actually get in without being detected," Benji concluded.

"Leave that to me." The two men looked at Jane. "I have an idea."


	39. Done and Dusted (7)

There was light. A beam of light, circling around in Holt's field of vision. A helicopter? That must be it. It most certainly was a helicopter, drawing shapes into the dark with a search light. Were they looking for her? Was that good or bad? Should she get up? No. Too much of an effort. She needed her concentration for breathing.

The search light vanished.

The doctor lowered the penlight he'd been pointing at the agent's eye, letting go of her head. "Come on," he said softly, but his voice sounded too flustered to be actually calming. "We have to get you moving."

"You can cut the niceties, Rivera," Caulfield said behind him. "She's a murderer."

The doctor swallowed, then dragged the agent up. With a low moan she regained consciousness when she got on her feet.

"Where..." she began, but then quit the effort to talk.

Caulfield led the way.

Skye blinked several times, but she kept zoning out. From one second to the next she was in a completely different room.

In the middle of it stood a daybed, on which she was placed, and only then she noticed Christensen standing there. The sound of the door closing reached her seconds after the visual counterpart, and for a second everything swayed again. She felt bile rising in her throat, but managed to suppress the impulse to throw up. This was driving her insane, every minute there was something new to deal with. She closed her eyes.

"I asked you a question."

She opened her eyes again. Something was different now. She was lying down.

"This is a waste of time," Caulfield was just saying. "You and your stupid drug."

"It's going to work, okay?"

Was that Christensen's voice? It had to be.

"I'm sure it would, but you had to overdo it again. The injection and the water, one would have been more than enough."

"Can you shut up for just _one_ minute, Kirsten?"

"Moron," she huffed at him.

Someone cleared his throat above her. The search lights were back, blinding her. Following a reflex Skye lashed out and caught someone's wrist.

Dr. Rivera shrank back, but her grip was relentless.

"Oh, look here," Caulfield said cynically. "Philipp's gonna love that."

"Everyone, shut up!" Christensen was beginning to lose his nerves. "You, out."

The doctor freed his hand and vanished. Skye had to shut her eyes again for a second when a wave of nausea got hold of her.

"Miss Enquist," he began sweetly.

Caulfield huffed and rolled her eyes. She felt like leaving too, but she wanted to be there when he would inevitably fuck this up, too.

"I need to know how much you know about us. How did you find us?"

Predictably, no answer came forward.

"Are there more coming? Did you tell anyone about us?"

"Does it matter?" said Caulfield. "We're halfway to South America already anyway."

"Shut up," he said nonchalantly and focused back on Skye. "It's important, you know. It's not just about you."

Holt's eyes narrowed. "Where is he?"

"She talks," Christensen smiled.

"I want to see him."

"I don't think you want to see that," he said, reaching behind him, taking up an object Skye couldn't see.

She struggled to get upright again. She felt she was swaying pathetically. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, there was an incident."

It was a syringe, holding clear, slightly yellowish liquid. He tapped it twice to release trapped air. Skye's head felt like it was boiling.

"He's dead," Caulfield said without looking up from her fingernails.

Skye's heart did something weird, missing a beat and then doing two at once to compensate. It hurt. She felt sick again.

 _They're bluffing, Skye T. You have no reason to believe them._

And now she was hearing voices. Great.

"Did you hear?" Christensen took over again.

"You're lying," Skye breathed.

The man sighed. "Shame, really. He put up a fight. There was no other way, he would have gotten away."

Images formed in Skye's mind. Ethan would have put up a fight. Not like her, who just sat there, useless, taking it all. And she called herself an agent.

"You have one more chance, though," Christensen said, back to his sweet voice. "We found something very interesting. Our old friend Benjamin Dunn showed up again."

"No," Skye said, a part of her kicking back into action. Her hands clasped tightly around the edge of the daybed. "He's dead." She had to keep him out of this, that was her whole reason for being here. Ethan had agreed. Ethan. It was her fault they had killed him, hers alone.

"Except that he isn't," Caulfield said in a menacing tone, still leaning against the wall. "And you have to know that in my eyes he shares the blame for my E-type."

Skye shivered violently and had to hold on more tightly. They had Benji, they had seen them, they would know that there was no back-up, that this was her end, that...

Something stung, and Skye saw a needle in her right arm. She felt the pressure of something forcing its way into her veins, and only when it was too late she realised that she should have prevented this.

"What the fuck are you doing?" someone shouted and shoved the man in front of Skye.

"It's gonna increase susceptibility. Give her an hour or so, then she'll tell us whatever we want."

"Have you listened to anything that I've said?" a female voice shrieked. "This is just gonna fuck her up even more and then she'll be worthless!" It was high-pitched and hurt Skye. She tried to cover her ears, but that meant she would have to relinquish her grip and she'd lose her balance.

"Fuck," a voice said, and Skye felt someone grip her shoulders. A strange sensation spread through her arm, and further from there.

"This is your fault."

Yes, it was her fault...

"It was your fucking idea, so hold it."

Correct, it had been her idea...

"This isn't over, just so you know it."

Skye knew that as well. It wouldn't be over for a long time.

/\/\/\/\

He had seen the figure on the security cameras. It had gotten dark, and the black clothes hardly showed up. At first he thought the stranger would just pass, but he kept loitering around the back entrance. Shit. He knew word travelled fast about that kind of thing but if word got back to his boss he would be in trouble. This couldn't get out of hand. The IDs he had nicked from the stash they had raided had been easy money, nothing more. Pure chance. But he had underestimated people talking.

He got up and made his way downstairs. He opened the back door cautiously. The stranger was still there, and looked up hopefully at the movement.

For a moment he was surprised. It was a woman. He hadn't been able to see her face clearly under the hood of the sweatshirt she was wearing. Her hands were shoved in her pockets, her shoulders hunched. She was probably after drugs.

"Get out of here," he said gruffly, and hoped that would be enough.

"They say you're selling," she said in a rough voice.

"Well, they're wrong. You can tell 'em that." He made to close the door.

"Wait!"

He waited.

"I'll pay."

He turned around. Looked at her. Thoroughly. She stood perfectly still. He took the step back outside, looked up at the cameras and took care not to be in view.

"What do you need?" he asked.

He glanced up once more. Then again, what did it matter. He could wipe the tapes as soon as he was back inside.

The woman took a step towards him.

The rest happened so fast that he didn't have time to react. She made contact, an arm shot around his neck, and then it felt like his body was twisting away from him. As if it didn't want to be part of him anymore. Then he felt nothing at all.

Jane let go of the body. "I'm clear."

Brandt pushed himself out of the shadows. Benji came round the corner.

"How did you know that someone would come?"

"Played a hunch," Jane said and almost smiled.

The door in front of them was open.

/\/\/\/\

Luther had fallen asleep, if one could call it that, so he couldn't be sure how long it had been since they had brought him back. He woke up when the door was thrown shut again. He felt slightly better. Not good, but better. Ready to move.

Skye lay coughing on the floor, sending up small dust clouds. He crossed the room, making his way around cheap furniture, and tried to help her up. The woman shrank back, apparently terrified.

"Kid, it's me," he said, but she managed to roll herself away and pressed her back against the wall, her eyes unnaturally wide.

The motion hadn't been good though, for now she almost couldn't support herself against the rough surface because pain was searing white-hot through her body. The man gripped her shoulder, keeping her upright.

"Skye." There was determination in Luther's voice. "What did they do to you?"

Tears were now streaming down her face. She looked so afraid.

"They got him," she whispered, her chin trembling. "And they killed him." She pressed her eyes shut, sending more tears down her cheeks, not able to bear what she'd just said.

"Slowly, kid. Who are you talking about? What happened?"

"Ethan," she sobbed. "They killed him. And it's all my fault." She was shaking all over now, and Luther lost his hold for a moment. It was enough to send her sliding towards the ground, but she didn't seem to notice. She was passing out. Then he got a grip on himself.

"Skye, listen to me, hey." He grabbed her again and got her upright. When he looked into her eyes, he realised for the first time that it was him she was afraid of. Pretty sure she had been drugged. "What are you saying, what does Ethan have to do with this? And how do you know he's..." To his surprise, he couldn't bring himself to say it. But he also couldn't believe it.

"Please," she forced the word out, "please, don't..."

"I'm not gonna hurt you," he said, trying his best to sound reassuring. "But I need you to tell me what's going on, okay? Who are these people?"

"They've got him," she murmured. "They've got Benji." More tears escaped her eyes, but she was hardly moving anymore, safe for the uncontrolled trembling. "We have to...we have... to..."

"Skye!"

"Benji..."

/\/\/\/\

What Benji liked about this job was that in the end it always came down to one very clear objective, whether that was hacking into a security system or saving the world from a nuclear warhead.

Right now, it was as simple as it could ever be: finding Skye alive and well was all that mattered now.

His instincts had guided him straight to the main server. It looked unfinished, improvised and quickly set-up. It took him barely three seconds.

"Central, are you getting that?"

" _Affirmative,"_ Crover's voice sounded faintly in his ear, disrupted by slight static, but it was there.

A few floors up, several computer screens flickered briefly before returning to a steady image of different camera feeds. Nobody noticed, since the room was unoccupied.


	40. Done and Dusted (8)

The cop had been bleeding when they left him, but Christensen didn't care. He could die in that room as far as he was concerned, if he felt like playing the hero for the woman. She was so out of it she couldn't even sit on her own, so now she was lying on her back on the daybed. And every time he asked her something she just stared into nothing, as if trying to see who was talking. Caulfield might have been right after all. But Christensen would never admit that.

"How much do you know?" he suddenly shouted. "What do you have?"

When nothing but concentrated breathing was forwarded as an answer, he lost his patience for good. "What is your mission?!"

"Your mission," she mumbled, "should you choose to accept it..."

Christensen leaned forward in anticipation, satisfied that she finally said something. He ignored the concerned expression on the doctor's face. "Yes?"

"Is to... stay out there... save the world..."

Christensen straightened again. "What? What the fuck is she talking about?"

"Should you..." Skye continued as if talking in her sleep, "or any member of... of your team... be... be caught or killed..."

"This is pointless," Christensen stated with surprising calm.

"...the secretary will dis... disavow any... knowledge..."

"What secretary?" he cut in again. "Who is he?"

"...knowledge of your actions..."

"Who's this secretary?!"

Skye looked at him, unfocused, almost surprised. "There is no secretary..."

"Okay, I got enough."

The doctor flinched and then backed away when Christensen took a gun out of his inner jacket pocket. With the weapon on the same level as the agent's ear, he checked the magazine, then shoved it back in and loaded a bullet into the chamber, but he never got further than that.

The punch into his face came like an earthquake that left the tectonic plates of his face drifting. At the same time his right arm was pulled down, his wrist twisted in a way it wasn't supposed to, and before anyone knew what happened, Holt was on her feet and holding his gun. She was trembling, sweat ran down her temple, her breathing was loud and her pupils huge.

The click of the gun had triggered a reflex in Skye. It took her a few seconds to understand what had just happened, it felt like she was waking up from a strange dream.

Christensen was recovering from his shock and didn't look happy. He stepped in her direction.

"Stay where you are," Skye hissed. Talking was exhausting. Everything was exhausting, in fact she felt terrible.

"Or what?" he said, and came closer still.

Skye pulled the trigger. She hit Christensen's right foot. She didn't hear his scream, though, since the shot was ringing in her ears so loudly that it set everything spinning. She felt sick, then thought she would pass out and almost let go of the gun. "Fuck," she breathed. The cursing helped her focus. She checked her bearings, the man who had sagged down in a puddle of blood, and the other one who stood terrified in a corner, looking at her like she was a wild animal that had broken loose. "You," Skye said, addressing the latter. He flinched. "What did you give me?"

The doctor looked at Christensen, who shot him poisonous glances between his wheezes, then stammered, "I don't know."

Skye pointed the gun at his head. "Give me something that helps me focus."

The man swallowed hard, and nodded.

/\/\/\/\

Skye felt like pure adrenaline was pumping through her veins. The point on her arm where the syringe's needle had punctured her skin was burning faintly. Her vision had narrowed to a tunnel-view, and occasionally everything went black for a split second, as if the lights flickered. But the agent was fairly sure it wasn't the lights. Everything was painfully clear, almost unrealistically bright and sharp. Her heart was racing in a way that she knew wasn't good, but at least the pain had stopped, and that had to be good enough to let her find Benji and get the hell out of here. Her fingers were clasped around the gun so tightly that it would take effort to uncurl them again, but she hardly felt it. The agent's breathing sounded so loud to her that she worried it might give her away. She turned another corner, gun first, and almost fired a shot when her muscles twitched uncontrolled, even though no one was there. This place was a damn labyrinth. She proceeded along the corridor and found a narrow staircase. For a second she lost her balance, everything turned red and started spinning, but then it was over as quickly as it had come.

 _Stay calm_ , the voice in her head said, and for a second she felt completely clear again.

Something brushed against her leg.

Skye inhaled sharply, and almost shot the cat.

Unfazed, it sat down at her feet, tilted its scruffy head so that one ear stood up and one didn't, and meowed once. Then it turned and ran away, down the stairs.

Skye followed.

/\/\/\/\

"Rover One, come in." Agent Crover's foot was tapping the floor of the van rapidly. Dr. Lee threw him a glance. "Rover One, acknowledge." The tapping increased.

"What's wrong?" the doctor asked.

"The connection is breaking up, Agent Dunn was right."

" _Standing by."_

Lee's eyes lit up in a nervous expression of 'There you go.'

"One, I have movement on your floor, there's a room around the corner, third door on your right."

There were several seconds of static. Lee felt herself tense.

" _Acknowledged,"_ they heard Agent Brandt's voice.

Then the radio broke up.

/\/\/\/\

Benji heard a noise and ducked into the shadows. Someone was making their way down the staircase, unknowingly approaching him. He pressed his body against the wall, hoping it would buy him a couple of seconds in case of discovery. He snapped the safety of his gun off and got ready to pull the trigger, every muscle in his body tensed.

The footsteps stopped.

/\/\/\/\

Skye saw a shadow half a floor down as she peaked through the railings. She blamed her weird vision for recognising it as a movement, and even though she couldn't be sure it was really there she wasn't inclined to take any risks. She stopped and moved further to the wall, trying to make out anything in the shadows. Everything remained still, so she moved on. Maybe she had imagined it after all. She took another step, when everything blacked out again, worse this time, taking all control over her body away from her for crucial seconds. She was sure she'd fall and break her neck. But maybe that would be the best outcome for her.

/\/\/\/\

The door in question stood open. Just a crack. Brandt had his gun ready when he gave it a kick and caused it to fly open.

Someone gasped audibly.

Brandt's eyes narrowed. There was barely any light.

"Don't shoot," someone suddenly stammered. "Please, don't shoot."

Brandt saw a man crouching down on the floor behind an old sofa. He made his way ahead, never taking his aim from him until he had a clear view. Luther was sitting in front of the man, not entirely unconscious, it seemed, but definitely dazed.

"Please," the man said again, and put his hands up. "I'm a doctor. My name is Manuel Rivera. I'm just – I'm just trying to help."

He looked at him for a second. Then he lowered his gun and got closer.

"Luther, can you hear me?"

Luther frowned slightly with half-closed eyes. "Mh..."

"Central, I found Luther."

There was no answer.

"You know him?" Rivera asked and swallowed.

"What did you do to him?"

"It wasn't me. Really, I'm just trying to-"

"To help, you said that."

The other man swallowed again. "They knocked him out when he tried to defend the woman."

Brandt looked him straight in the eye. "And where's she?"

"She got away. She shot Christensen. He's – I locked him in." The doctor looked terrified, recounting his own actions. Then he nodded at Luther. "I knew he needed help."

"Can he get out?" Brandt asked.

"I don't think so. She shot his foot, he's... probably bleeding a lot."

"We need to get out of here before they find us. You're gonna help me," Brandt decided. "Is there a way out where we won't run into anyone?"

Rivera nodded, slightly stunned.

/\/\/\/\

Benji recognised her just in time. She had been quick, almost on his level when she suddenly fell forward without warning. Finding her sent a rush of excitement up his spine that enabled him to catch her by the shoulders, keeping her upright, when she already found her balance again. Skye started at the touch, then she realised who it was and lowered her weapon.

"Benji!" She hugged him around his neck, helped by the couple of steps that weighed out the height difference.

The relief that washed through him was overwhelming.

"Are you all right?" she asked, now looking at him, panic in her voice.

"You're asking me?" he wasn't sure whether he should laugh or cry, but she already continued in a rushed way. Benji didn't feel comfortable letting go of her because he felt she needed the support.

"I need you to stay close to me," she rambled, "they're after us, and these people don't play nice, by now I don't think they care anymore if they get us alive, so we need to get out of here-"

Benji was processing what she was saying, but something else was going on inside him. All this fear he'd had that something might have happened to her gave way to pure happiness about finding her alive and in full agent mode, well enough to occupy herself with such stupid things as his safety. He had never been so glad to see someone, so relieved, and he felt like he would implode if he didn't do something. He leaned forward, cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.

It might have been the drugs in Skye's system, but she had never felt anything as intense as this. Weeks of suppressed longing for exactly this moment washed to the surface, and suddenly nothing mattered anymore as long as she could have Benji's lips. She held on to him, both in order to stay vertical and to keep him from breaking away.

But Benji had no intentions of doing so. Something hot exploded in his stomach when he felt Skye's tongue brush along his lips, and they gave way. What had started as gentle became messy and wonderful, and the only reason Skye eventually pulled away was her sudden need for oxygen. She swayed slightly, but Benji held her steady.

"Are you okay?" he managed to say, and his worries took over again through the rush of pleasure, now that he processed her burning skin. He felt her forehead. She was definitely feverish, causing him to curse the waste of time – but it still felt so incredibly good. "What's wrong, are you hurt?"

Skye swallowed and shook her head, took his hand and moved it away from her face. "No," she said breathlessly. "No, I'm fine."

"You're not fine," Benji stated and tried to make out if that was blood on her face or just shadows.

"We don't have time," Skye urged. "They gave me something, but I don't know what it was, I was out for some time. For now we need to get out." She looked into his eyes, and for once there was nothing questioning in her glance, just pure sincerity.

Benji nodded. "All right. Just... stay close, okay?"


	41. Done and Dusted (9)

Caulfield had gone back to the room the others called Armoury ever since they found the stash where Holt had tried to take cover. A ridiculous name in her opinion. She was sick of this entire place, everything was still so make-shift and smelled of cigarette smoke. Also she suspected there were rats. Once it was done it would be a perfect outpost of their business, but she couldn't stand unfinished places.

She ignored the man sitting there. Supposedly standing guard. She could just pick up a gun, any gun, and shoot him. Hypothetically. She smiled. The thought cheered her up.

On a desk was the small Beretta they had found on Holt. That would do. Her smile widened. She stepped closer to examine the two small boxes next to the agent's gun. What were those? Curiously she picked one up.

Then a sound made her freeze. A muffled hiss, like a sharp gust of wind.

Without turning she glanced to her right. The man sagged down to the floor.

Slowly, Caulfield turned to face the door. A woman stood there, dressed entirely in black, her black hair in a sleek ponytail. Kirsten stared straight into the silencer she had screwed on her gun.

"Kirsten Caulfield," the woman stated, and stepped into the room. Her dark eyes glistened.

"That depends." She was quick, turned and ducked simultaneously, felt the bullet swish over her head, and reached for Holt's Beretta.

But the other woman was fast, too, and proceeded to hand-to-hand. Before she knew it, she was thrown on the ground. She cried out. Her blond hair spilled out underneath her head as she hit the ground, and she felt a seam of her jacket rip. She had to let go of the gun under the strength of the other woman on top of her. Caulfield could feel the bulletproof vest under the sweatshirt. In an act of despair she tried to throw the small box-like object at her assailant, but she missed. Instead the box flew over to the wall.

For a moment, Kirsten thought she saw horror flash in the other woman's eyes. Suddenly she was free. She didn't entirely understand. Caulfield lifted her head. The woman in black had rolled off of her and bolted.

The next second she understood.

The box was a miniature charge.

/\/\/\/\

They were close to the entrance when Skye suddenly cried out and broke down. Benji was immediately by her side.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Skye, what did they do to you?"

She couldn't breathe and started trembling more violently, tried to steady herself against the wall but broke down nevertheless. Benji pulled her upright.

"Skye, look at me," he forced his voice to stay calm, but didn't quite succeed over his boiling emotions. "We're almost there, it's not much further, but I need you to get up okay?" He held her shoulder, and brushed her hair away from her sweaty forehead. "Okay?"

She barely nodded.

"I promise you'll be fine, I'll get you out of here. We have Lee standing by. Everything's gonna be all right. I just need you to be strong for a little bit longer. Can you do that? For me?" he added, trying hard not to sound desperate, seeing how bad a state she was suddenly in. Her pupils looked huge, now that they had better light than back in the staircase. But Skye nodded again, and clasped his arm. Benji dragged her up and held her for a second so that she could catch her breath.

"Let's go," Skye rasped through clenched teeth, when suddenly a voice behind them sounded.

"Yes," Nolan said and loaded his gun. "Let's go."

The van's door slid open as Brandt approached. Lee helped him drag Luther inside.

"What happened?" she asked. "And who's that?" she added, eyeing Rivera with suspicion.

"He's mainly beat up," Brandt said.

Luther was already clearer again. "Is Skye still inside?" he asked.

"Most likely," Brandt said, before Lee pushed him out of the way.

"I can help," Rivera said quietly. "I'm a medical doctor."

"Is that right," Lee said, unfazed, checking Luther's pupils with a penlight.

Brandt turned to Crover. "Anything?"

The young man shook his head. "The radio broke up. All I could do was cut their cameras."

Brandt nodded, and was about to say something when they heard a crashing noise across the street. Brandt opened the door again and just saw a window on one of the Mot Clé's upper floors shatter. "I'm going back in," he shouted, and ran towards the smoke.

/\/\/\/\

"You think you have a right to judge me," Nolan said. "Yet I have a dead man lying on my doorstep. Sure, he's the reason you found me and deserved it. But face it. You're just like us."

Benji glared at him. He couldn't put the hatred he felt into words. Two men were holding him. One was pressing a gun to his temple with so much force that he had to tilt his head slightly.

"Put her down," Nolan said to the man to his left, who simply let go of Skye. She sagged to the floor, and hit her head. Upon impact, she made a soft sound that went right through Benji. He struggled, but it was pointless. He felt just like back in Toronto, and he hated it.

Skye's eyes remained closed, sweat stood on her forehead, but other than her rushed breathing she stayed motionless.

"How many of you are there?"

"The entire building is surrounded. In a minute it'll be swarming with agents," Benji spat.

Nolan smiled his snake-smile. "No, really. How many. Ten? Five?"

"Let her go," Benji said. "Please, she needs help. I'll tell you everything if you let her go."

"That's interesting," Nolan mused. "But you see, it's her own fault. She assaulted some of my dear friends. She was practically begging us to drug her some more," he concluded innocently. "Drop your weapon," he suddenly said sharply and looked past Benji.

The agent struggled to crane his neck enough to see what was going on.

Brandt obeyed. He threw an apologetic glance at Benji, cursing himself that he hadn't been fast enough. He put the gun next to Holt's unconscious form, and slowly got upright again.

"Now step away," Nolan commanded.

Brandt took two steps back, but was met with a disapproving glance from Nolan. He took two more.

"See, it works if you want it to work. Now, how do we end this?"

Benji wasn't sure if he was supposed to say something. Nolan looked as if he was genuinely thinking about what to do next. His goons started to get uneasy as the quiet stretched.

Then, a single shot was fired.

/\/\/\/\

It was all the distraction Jane Carter needed. She had been poised around the corner, listening the entire time, waiting for the ideal moment. When she heard a gun go off and Nolan cry out, she stepped out of her hiding place, stayed low, and emptied her magazine.

Every single bullet hit straight home.

/\/\/\/\

Nothing had ever hurt as much as the recoil of that shot. It felt as if her arm was blasted right through her body, sending a searing pain up into her forehead. Fortunately, it only lasted a second, before Skye blacked out completely. The last thing she saw, was Nolan's lifeless form hitting the ground.


	42. Done and Dusted (10)

_...It's okay... Skye, talk to me..._ We need to get out of here... _I'm not in danger..._ Speed this up... _No match for the IMF... You shouldn't quit... I work independently... Watch out for yourself... I thought we're in this together..._ I got her... _I can't block you... It's all right, love... there has to be a sort of source..._ You're gonna be fine... _Have we met before?... I was scared... Do you miss them?..._ Keep her steady... _I'm not gonna let you go alone... I think it's safe now... Mi spiace..._ We'll have to see how she's holding up over night... _You're not alone... I trust you... You look stunning... Be careful..._ I'll stay with her... _They're just dreams... You're safe when you're with me..._ Everything's gonna be fine... _maybe it just takes some getting used to..._

/\/\/\/\

Neither Ethan nor Benji had bothered to turn on the lights. Both of them were tired, but to Ethan's slight surprise the silence between them didn't feel heavy, save for the bit of worrying that Benji was so unusually quiet. He hadn't been quite sure what to say when he had woken up back in Dr. Lee's realm to learn that the mission had been launched without him, and he was all the more glad that everything had worked out. More or less.

But Skye looked relatively calm, sort of asleep in her bed in the infirmary despite the fever and the quiet hurried breathing.

"You don't have to stay here, you know?" Benji suddenly said. "If you want to check up on Luther. Or sleep."

Ethan mirrored the slightly awkward sheepish grin that accompanied the last suggestion. They both knew that being able to sleep would still take some time. "Yeah," he said, but showed no intentions of leaving. He felt Benji glancing at him sidewise before looking back to Skye and eventually the floor.

"Listen, mate, I'm sorry," Benji started again. "I said a couple of things that I... didn't mean."

"Never mind that. You had every reason to be mad at me."

"Yes, but..."

In response, the older agent simply extended his right hand. Benji had to chuckle when he shook it. They were good.

Skye started mumbling something, and both agents turned back to her.

/\/\/\/\

The darkness was still there, even after she had opened her eyes. They had put her back in that room, she was certain. Skye tried to move her head to get a better idea of the situation, but it hurt. A small groan escaped her.

Suddenly, a face appeared in her field of vision. A man, shorth-ish black hair, with a nice enough smile mixed into his concern. He said something, but she didn't catch it. Only when she could focus enough to meet his eyes, something was sparked in the back of her head. Suddenly she was gripped by the horrifying certainty that this man was dead. No clue how she knew it, she didn't even know who he was, but it seemed to be a solid fact. Only, if a dead man was sitting next to her, what did that mean concerning her own current state?

"Skye?"

Her head hurt. "Don't," she breathed.

"Don't worry," he tried to reassure her, taken aback by the utter horror in her her eyes. "You're safe."

The woman's eyes rolled upwards and closed eventually, her body relaxed again when she passed back out, but her breathing was faster now and sweat stood on her forehead.

Benji caught Ethan's worried glance, but didn't say anything. Quietly, the techie took her hand.

/\/\/\/\

Skye was in and out of consciousness for several days. The fever kept her in a sleepy state of exhaustion, but Lee claimed that was a good thing. Together with Rivera, whom they had brought with them out of the Mot Clé, she was working round the clock on a treatment.

Benji still didn't entirely trust him, and hardly left the room. From time to time Skye would start talking, although not much of it made sense. Some of it Benji could only guess was Danish, while lots of the parts he did understand seemed to be about Italy, and none of them could find any meaning in that.

A strand of hair had fallen across her forehead, and Benji carefully brushed it away. In a drastic contrast to her ice-cold hands, the skin in her face was burning up. A bit unsure, he placed the cool surface of his own palm lightly against her head. He felt really helpless, but Skye unexpectedly sighed deeply, apparently in relief. Her fever soon rendered his cooling touch useless, so he turned his hand and continued with the back of his fingers. Her breathing seemed to go easier, deeper, more relaxed, and when her lids started flickering at first he thought he was imagining.

"Skye?"

It appeared to take effort, but at last she was looking at him, sidewise, her eyes constantly trying to fall shut again. Skye tried to turn her head to him, but Benji gently made her stay.

"Just stay still, love," he said, smiling, turning his hand around again, eliciting another sigh.

Her eyes looked glassy when she tried her hardest to stay focused on him.

"You should sleep some more," Benji said, carefully stroking her forehead.

" _Søgeord_..."

He could hardly hear her, and it was obvious that she had overestimated her strength when she attempted to speak.

Her eyes shut again, only to be once more forced open after a second. "I was..."

"Ssh," he said. "You're gonna be fine. You just need some rest. But you're gonna be fine. I'll make sure of that." He thought he saw something scared in her glance, and, remembering Ethan's cold turkey, he added, slightly unsure, "It's me, Benji."

She didn't answer for a while, and the Brit was already sure she'd fallen asleep again, when she murmured, "You're here..." Her eyes were open the slightest bit.

"Yes, I'm here." He took her hand.

"You can't be here." She sounded afraid. "You have to get out."

"Skye, everything's fine, we got you. You're out of danger, you don't have to worry."

But his attempts to calm her went unnoticed. Skye's lids fluttered shut again and her words slurred a bit when she fell back asleep.

"You gotta get out..."

/\/\/\/\

"Rise and shine, Netranger."

Luther pressed his eyes shut again when the light met them. "Call me that again and I'll punch you in the face."

"See, he's fine," Ethan said to someone.

Luther opened his eyes for good, and saw Ethan Hunt sit on a chair next to his hospital bed. Jane Carter stood at the end of it, smiling quietly.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure you boys won't get into a fight," she said amiably.

"Nice of you to come around," Luther said, straightening slightly. "Bit earlier would have been good."

"Well, you know, the traffic," Ethan shrugged.

Luther nodded understandingly. At the edge of the room, Jane huffed with a slight chuckle, and Luther turned his head. "You weren't even there."

"How's the kid?" Luther wanted to know.

"She'll be fine," Ethan said. "Benji's with her."

"And those wannabes?"

"Taken care of."

"Caulfield is still unconscious, but Lee says she'll make it," Jane elaborated. "She accidentally set off an explosive charge. Christensen is already in the hands of Brandt and the CIA."

"The CIA?"

"Long story," Ethan said dismissively.

"And Nolan?"

Jane shook her head.

Luther sank back against the pillow. "So you can actually get things done without me."

"Apparently we don't even need Ethan." Jane shoved Agent Hunt's shoulder amiably and moved towards the door. "I'll send you the doctor back in. And no fighting," she added warningly.

"What's her beef?" Luther asked.

Ethan just grinned. "Nothing important."

/\/\/\/\

Jane quietly entered Skye's room. Benji turned around. He was sitting next to the bed with his laptop on his knees and smiled when he saw her. Jane closed the door with a soft click.

"I thought I might find you here."

Benji shrugged. "Doesn't really matter where I decrypt my share, does it?"

Rivera had talked, and thanks to him they had figured out the missing pieces to crack the Malmö drive. They were close to having a complete list of every outpost, member, and deal ever conducted by the Nolan Network.

"How is she?" Jane asked, stepping closer. Holt's eyes were closed, but for the first time Jane thought she looked more asleep than unconscious.

"The fever is down," Benji said. "She even woke up for a while earlier."

"That's great," Jane said surprised.

"Just a couple of minutes," Benji dulled her enthusiasm. "And I'm not sure she recognised me." He looked sad, but also infinitely caring.

Jane had to smile. "Don't you worry. Ethan got around again, Luther's back on his feet, she'll be fine as well."

"Yeah, she's tough," he agreed and closed the laptop. He reached to take Skye's hand.

There was something in the gesture that made Jane think of Trevor Hanaway. She'd never gotten around to telling him how she felt. Because she'd been too wary of their relationship, because it had never seemed fitting, because she had been too damn proud to take the first step. Because of a number of reasons that seemed horribly insignificant now that it was too late. In the end all she'd had left was tracking down his killer to equal the stakes.

"Benji? Does she know?" Jane asked quietly.

"Know what?"

"How you feel about her."

Benji met Jane's intense dark eyes. "I think so," he said, equally quietly. Then he added, "Maybe."

"You should make sure of that. Once she wakes up." Jane felt that Benji understood. After all he'd been there when Hanaway had been murdered.

/\/\/\/\

...ceiling, Agent Holt decided. What she was seeing was definitely the top of a room. It was raining outside, she could hear it. Or was it just in her head? Her eyes wandered, and were met by someone sitting next to her. A sturdy black guy, broad-shouldered and tall, with a moustache – her head hurt. She tightly closed her eyes and took in a sharp breath through the nose before she reopened them.

"Hey there, kiddo," the man said, and looked as if he suppressed a grin. He sounded American.

"Hi?" she replied, surprised at the hoarse sound of her voice. Her throat felt sore. "How much did I drink?"

The man chuckled as she raised a hand to her forehead to stop the throbbing. "How are you feeling?"

"Hung over."

"Don't worry, you'll be fine in no time." He produced a glass of water and steadied her while she drank.

"It was just an old-fashioned bar fight..." she murmured, sinking back into the sheets.

"What?" he asked.

"No, really... you should see the other guy..."

He placed the glass back on the bedside table and couldn't suppress another chuckle. "That's right, kid."

"Do I know you?" she asked, a bit clearer now.

He looked concerned at the sound of that question. It took him two seconds to answer. "I'm Luther. Luther Stickell."

Why did that name sound familiar? "What happened?" she asked.

"You don't remember?" He now looked worried.

"About what?"

"You and Ethan went out on your own to find yourselves some evidence of Nolan."

"Ethan?" Her facial expression displayed deep thought, followed by confusion, and eventually exasperation and impatience when nothing came to her mind, all within a couple of seconds.

"You were on a mission," Luther explained helpfully. "You wanted to find the source of Kennedy Ltd. in Toronto."

"Toronto...? But... that's not even in Italy..." She ran a hand through her hair, and she tried to sit up, which only caused her head to hurt more, so she let herself slide back.

"Well, the short version is, you got caught and they drugged you. We don't know for sure how much they gave you. I found you, but that back-fired."

Skye frowned at him.

"I hate to say it, but if it wasn't for Benji and the rest of them clowns, we would probably still be in there." Luther saw her eyes falling shut again, and decided it was too soon for explanations. "But you're okay now."

Skye smiled a far-away smile. "Where's the cat?"

"What cat?"

"There was a cat..."

"I don't know, kid," Luther said apologetically.

The woman's eyes opened again. There was a Mars bar on the night stand, next to the glass of water. "Is Benji okay?" she asked.

"Oh, you remember him but not me? Well, thank you," Luther said happily. "Don't worry, he's fine. We just had to make him sleep at some point." He motioned across the room. "He's over there."

Holt's gaze wandered to her left. Benji was sleeping in a chair, not too far off as the room was rather small, half leaned against the wall. Luther saw the relief on her face, followed by a small smile. The shaking eased.

"I had a dream about him..." she said sleepily, then looked back at Luther. "Can you tell him... can you tell him that my Japanese is actually a joke? I was just..." Skye's eyes fell shut again against her will. "...just trying to impress him..."

Luther had to smile one of his rare smiles. "I'll let him know."


	43. Done and Dusted (11)

Skye opened her eyes. She was about sixty percent sure that she'd woken up in this room before. She blinked a couple of times. Everything remained clear, right down to Benji sitting next to her and slowly stroking her hand. He looked tired and there was stubble all over his face. He hadn't noticed yet that she was awake.

"...can you believe him?" he was just saying quietly, still focused on her hand. "Being everyone's most wanted and he calls me at head quarters. Me. But that was the kind of crazy that made me want to go into field work. That's the true story. Although masks _are_ pretty cool, so that wasn't entirely a lie..."

Skye didn't want to startle him, so she gently closed her fingers around his.

Benji's sleepy eyes opened rapidly when he turned his head.

Skye smiled. "Hey."

He flinched unnoticed when he heard how weak her voice was, but her smile was all he really needed to see. "Hi," he got out, looking thoroughly amazed. Only then he fully caught up with the present; his hand closed around hers and his features lit up to the brightest smile she'd seen so far. "How do you feel?" he asked breathlessly, not quite knowing where to start.

"Mh... bit tired," Skye said, then looked around again. "I'm at HQ?"

"Yes, that's right."

"How long have I been here?"

"Couple of days." There was so much relief in his voice that Skye had to smile. "Do you... do you remember me?"

The woman frowned a little. "Of course I remember you. I'm not entirely sure what happened, though."

"Doesn't matter," Benji said, and looked as if a huge weight had been lifted from him. "That really doesn't matter. At all." He started chuckling happily. "I better tell the others that you woke up. We've all been waiting."

"The others?"

"Oh, the whole team came along. Brandt, Jane. And Crover. Luther is still here, too. And Ethan, of course."

"Ethan?" she asked, suddenly alarmed, and sat up, which made her feel a bit dizzy.

Benji reached to steady her.

"Ethan is... he's here?"

"Yeah," he said, now slightly unsure.

"And he's – fine?"

"Yes." Benji's eyes looked like big blue question-marks.

Then Skye's brain caught up with something else. She looked at him again, more intensely than before, scanning for possible injuries. "And you're all right, too?"

His smile returned and he nodded.

Skye frowned. "But how? How did you get out? And how did Ethan...?"

"They never had me in the first place. And Ethan managed to escape." She still looked confused, so he continued. "They lied to you."

That being the most obvious explanation, it of course hadn't occurred to her. "They said..." Then she decided it didn't matter and drew Benji into an embrace. "You're okay," she told herself with her face buried at his neck, taking in his smell, that mixture of something salty and sunwarmed skin and dark chocolate and something that was just Benji.

He carefully kissed her temple, the only part of her face he could reach while holding her like this, and for the moment none of what had happened was important, as long as Skye held on to him.

"Tell me when it gets weird," he murmured as the embrace continued.

"That could take a while," Skye whispered back.

"You really must hate me," Luther said. "Sending an analyst to get me."

"Chief analyst," Ethan remarked.

"Whatever, man." The two men entered Skye's room. "I think we're interrupting," Luther added on seeing Benji and the woman caught up in a hug.

They looked over to see who had come in, but were in no hurry to let go of each other.

"Hi," Skye said brightly.

"Can we come in?" Ethan grinned.

Benji waved them comradely inside.

"All there again, kiddo?" Luther sat down.

"I think I'm missing a few pieces here and there," Skye admitted, but smiled.

"Well, I for one haven't seen you this coherent in days," Luther said.

All of them chuckled at that.

"And you guys really are okay?" She looked at all of them in turn, including Benji for a second time.

Ethan dismissed the question. "We just wanted to excuse ourselves before we leave. We're off to Caracas with Jane."

"You know" Luther said. "For sightseeing."

Skye smiled. "Before you leave, will someone tell me what happened?"

/\/\/\/\

Skye's scream got stuck in her throat when she rapidly sat up and got hit by a wave of nausea. For a moment it was so overwhelming that she didn't consciously realise any of her surroundings, only when there was a hand on her back out of nowhere she shrank back again.

"It's all right, Skye, it's me. It's Benji. You're safe." He kept holding her until she had halfway calmed down.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, still with a somewhat trembling voice, and pulled her knees up to her chest.

"I'm not gonna leave you alone," Benji answered.

She glanced at him. "You can't sleep in a chair all the time..."

"Yes, I can."

Skye almost smiled at this childlike stubborn answer, but instead the shivering started again. She was this close to an annoyed sigh.

"You want to talk about it?" he asked tentatively.

Skye shook her head.

"Should I get Lee?"

"No."

"Okay." Then he added, "Do you want me to leave?"

Again, she just shook her head.

After a while she asked, "Is it cold in here?"

"No, actually," he said with a careful smile.

"Thought so." She tried to get the blanket tighter around her.

"Wait." Benji took off his shoes and slid next to her on the bed. Without saying anything he offered her his arm. Skye slowly leaned against his shoulder. He carefully wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, calmly emitting warmth. Even her nose was cold, he noticed when it nudged his arm, but within a minute the shaking stopped. As a compensation, the remainders of her nightmare now got clearer again. Skye knew she shouldn't, but she had to ask.

"Why did you come for me? You should have... just should have disavowed. With everything that's at stake already..."

Benji decided not to say anything about how that was a tremendously stupid question. "Because I really, really care about you."

When he more felt then heard the suppressed snuffle, he realised she was crying. It was impossible to hold her any closer, but he nudged her hair softly with his nose and hoped it would be comforting. His first impulse had been to tell her not to cry, but she was probably more helped with... this. Him being there while she finally felt safe enough.

"It's okay," he whispered, lovingly stroking her arm with his thumb.

"Yes," she responded to his surprise and wiped the tears away. "Yes, it is."

/\/\/\/\

Skye stood at the open window. Lee had moved her to a room several floors up, since the infirmary had increasingly been turned into a high security tract over the past week. Skye didn't mind. She enjoyed having daylight, and was still looking outside when Brandt entered. She turned around at the sound of the door, and hoped he didn't notice her exhale of relief. She was still a bit jumpy.

"Tea?" he greeted her, extending a hand with a paper cup.

"Thank you," she smiled, a bit surprised, when he stepped next to her, placing his coffee on the windowsill.

"They say it's gonna make 71 degrees today," Brandt said, motioning towards the sun that was shining for the first time in weeks, it seemed.

She smiled carefully. "You came to talk about the weather?"

"Actually I wanted to see how you're doing. There just were a few things to sort out, that's why I'm only here now."

She smiled at his ironic tone. "We've messed up big time, haven't we." It was a statement.

"I'm not gonna deny that, but you did help in dismantling a huge network of criminals, so we're even."

"And what about Hunley?"

"Hunley," the analyst said and took a sip of coffee, "should shut up. With Nolan and Kennedy Ltd. out of the race we could speed up a dozen ongoing operations, not to mention get intel on twice as many more, so I dare him to tell us we should get shut down."

She smiled a bit and nodded. "Okay."

"Also we borrowed some staff from them, so the CIA is getting their fair share as well. What about you? Are you okay?" Brandt asked.

"Getting there," she said, with a trace of her usual determination in her voice. She paused, stopped looking outside and turned to him instead. "I'm sorry things got out of hand like this. It wasn't planned."

"It happens," Brandt said. "Let's just forget about this. We're good."

Holt looked at him for a long time, as if she wasn't sure if she could believe him. He held her gaze.

"Thank you," she suddenly said, and Brandt had trouble recalling when he'd last heard someone sounding so serious and honest.

"Don't mention it. Part of the job."

She looked like she wanted to say something but apparently swallowed her retort. Brandt thought he knew what she was thinking. Disavowed was disavowed. Getting someone back wasn't that natural.

"I'm sure you'll repay the favour at some point." He smiled sidewise at her, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

She got the hint. "I'll buy you a drink some time."

Brandt nodded. "That sounds fair."

They both turned around when someone entered the room. Skye visibly relaxed when she saw it was Benji.

"Hey, you're up," he noticed happily. To the analyst, he added, "Hi, Brandt."

"Don't tell anyone," Skye said, half-joking. "According to Lee I should still be lying down."

"I'll leave you two alone," Brandt decided with a smile, grabbed his coffee and was already gone.

Benji stepped next to Skye. "How are you?"

"I don't know... I still get headaches, and feel dizzy from time to time. They say the stuff messed up my stomach, but food is beginning to work out again. I just feel a bit weird, because I don't know what I actually remember and what's only in my head."

"You look much better though than just yesterday," he observed.

He looked at her, and she focused on the spot in his eye. Skye had to smile. Benji smiled back.

For a while they just stood leaning against the windowsill and let the sun shine in their faces, their arms touching.

Benji ran a hand over his face. "I need to shave," he noticed when what couldn't be called stubble any more scratched over his palm.

She glanced at him sidewise. "I think you should keep the beard."

He tried to hold her gaze but she looked away. Benji was beginning to feel pathetic. He had to say something, and not just because he had promised Jane. It was impossible that he was just imagining this whatever it was between them. Either way, it was worth a try. But just when he wanted to speak up she beat him to it.

"Are you mad at me?"

It seemed such a ridiculous idea that Benji had to laugh. "What are you talking about?"

"Because I didn't tell you," she remained serious, and finally met his eyes.

He took her hand, but she already continued before he could reply. "It just – it sounds so stupid, but it never seemed the right moment." There was something pleading in her eyes and he realised that she just wanted to explain herself. She squeezed his hand a bit. "I found Richard Ferner dying in that office back in Toronto. Shot in the stomach. He told me what was going on. He also had me shoot him to spare him the suffering. Information in exchange for a quick death."

He swallowed at her drained tone. "I didn't know that." Skye nodded, sadly, a bit embarrassed. This really got to her, he noticed. Something else made sense now. "That's why you were so finished back then," it dawned on him. "And why you just shot Reinhardt. Why you were so mad. Because he had killed Ferner."

Again she simply nodded. "After that everything happened so fast and... once I had mustered up a report I honestly just didn't want to think about it for a while. But what happened with Christensen – I only knew about this because I had caught a glimpse of that passport in Atwood's suitcase. Hell knows why the camera didn't catch it. I guess it was just tough luck. It took me way too long to make that connection, and it seemed such a weak theory at the time, I don't know. I wanted to wait and see if we'd find more evidence in Hamburg, but after what happened there I was just so generally confused that I..."

Benji wasn't sure if he could stand this any longer, and edged closer still. Skye took a deep breath, then looked back up at him. "I know it would have made more sense to talk to you instead of Ethan. But I was kind of hoping that if I told someone who hadn't been part of everything, I'd see that it didn't make any sense after all, that I was talking myself into something. And really, I just wanted you to be safe. Good job, Skye," she attempted to be ironic.

Benji was stroking the back of her hand. "I get it. I understand," he said sincerely, but from the way she avoided looking at him he could tell that she was still feeling bad. Carefully, he reached for her face and turned her towards him. Her skin was unbelievably soft. The sunlight brought out the bits of green in her beautiful eyes. Beautiful, especially when she looked at him like this. In that moment, he was sure she knew. "But honestly I don't care. You're okay, that's what matters."

For some magical reason, Benji wasn't nervous any more when he realised their faces were just inches apart. Yes, his heart was beating like crazy, but he felt astonishingly calm. He moved forward ever so slightly and nudged her nose with the tip of his.

Skye's eyes fluttered shut when their lips found each other.

This time he wasn't ready for it to be over again so soon. A wonderful warmth washed through Benji when she relaxed and leaned into the kiss, hesitantly putting her arms around him.

Then, carefully, he pulled back. "I'm not mad at you," he clarified. Benji held her shoulders to keep her steady. "Don't look so shocked," he added smiling.

Skye had to swallow, but a smile overtook her features.

"So that wasn't a dream, then," she said.

"No," he smiled. "This is real."

"Could you," she began, but had to start over, "could you do that again? I think I blacked out for a second."

Benji smiled back, brushed a strand of her hair out of the way and pulled her closer before he kissed her again. He felt her hand settle between his shoulder blades, felt her lips open slightly. He knotted her hair a bit, combing his fingers through it, utterly surprised how much softer it was than he had imagined.

"Does this mean I can tell you?" Benji whispered when they gently broke the kiss.

"Tell me what?" Skye asked.

"That you have the most beautiful smile." He had never seen the shy version of it, though, and Skye actually blushed.

Benji caught an escaped strand of hair and sorted it behind her ear. Skye nudged her head against his shoulder and buried her nose on his neck. Being a good deal smaller, that was probably more comfortable for her. He tightened their embrace a little. It had been hell of a chaos, and it still was, but between the two of them everything finally felt right.

Skye reached up to his face and trailed a finger along his cheek. "You _should_ keep the beard," she said with a wide smile, and Benji realised that he had never been so comfortable in his life.


	44. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

"That was probably the most normal thing we've ever done together."

"Going out for dinner?"

"Yes."

"We've done that before."

"On missions. Not like this."

"It was nice for a change, wasn't it?"

"It's freaking me out."

Benji laughed and put an arm around her, bending down for a second to kiss the small bit of the scar on her shoulder that was visible under the strap of her summer dress.

They were walking along the pier of Vieste, the sun was just setting over the country, tinting everything in golden light and making the Adriatic Sea sparkle for one last time this day.

"Okay, so what could we do that doesn't freak you out?"

"I might have an idea or two," she smiled.

There was no way he could ever get enough of that smile, those eyes, looking at him in this way. They stopped walking and Benji was about to kiss her, when suddenly someone called out behind them.

"Excuse me!" Slight Italian accent, but good English, not necessarily a local, Benji analysed out of habit when the man caught up with them. "Excuse me, sir," he said, a bit out of breath, "but you left your phone, at the restaurant." As if to prove a point, he held out the device, waiting for Benji to take it.

Automatically the Brit reached into his pocket in order to check, but then he remembered that he'd left his phone in the hotel.

"I think you're mistaking me for someone else," he said apologetically.

"No, no," the man persisted, "I brought it for you." He didn't stir in his position.

"Thank you," Skye suddenly said, and accepted the phone in Benji's place. "We appreciate it."

The man nodded, and vanished as quickly as he had appeared.

"What..." Benji began, but Skye's knowing smile silenced him in a peculiar way.

"Go on," she said, pushing the phone into his hand. "It's yours."

"Wait, you don't think this is – no..." His voice trailed off as he looked disbelievingly at the device in his hand.

Skye nodded at him, a cheerful 'Go ahead'.

Intrigued, he activated it, and in retrospect he couldn't have said whether he'd been surprised or not when the retinal scan was initiated.

"Agent confirmed," a slightly artificial voice sounded, and his name appeared on the screen.

Wide-eyed, he looked at his girlfriend.

She smiled at him. "Shall we?"

* * *

 _Author's note: If you've made it here, I want to thank you for being so patient with the story and giving Skye a chance. I appreciate it a lot. I'd love to know what you think. Twitter: ThiessenClocks_

 _Also thanks to Ellster for beta-reading and constant moral support._

 _If you want more of Skye and Benji (and also Jane and Ethan), check out my next story, Lock and Load._

 _Cheers._


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